Question our sanity. I'm only half kidding.
The truth is that life without writing is strange, especially when you're used to having a project (or two, or three) going. Promotion only takes so much time, so you find yourself wondering how everybody else deals with this void that they call "normal."
Oh, the things we do when we aren't writing. We read. That's usually top on the list.Visit family and friends (that's been this weekend). I'd say we catch up with TV, but truthfully I'm pretty good about arranging my schedule around the few shows I watch on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. We catch up on chores and errands, and I actually started my big "fall housecleaning" this weekend. That's a project that I usually tackle over a week's time in October or November. So far, so good on that. We went to the firing range yesterday, and that was fun - we really need to do that more often but alas, the increasing cost of ammunition is often a deterrent. I'm fairly caught up with what to expect on the midterm ballots for Election Day on Tuesday. I winterized the roses and Rick and I went out to close the vents under the house and cover the outdoor faucets in preparation for our first freeze of the season tonight (it's a little early this year). And I'm planning to participate in "Share Our Stuff" day at the church on Saturday - that's our spring and fall event where we collect clothes and household items to give to the needy in the community. I'm roughly half done with Christmas shopping, the gun show is next weekend, and the craft show is the weekend after that. Plus the usual chores, errands, and time on the exercise bike.
In other words, swinging between wondering how I did it all while I was writing, and finding the joy in the simple stuff to jump start my muse once I get back to the writing in 2015. And wondering if I'll make it to then, because it's been a week, and I already feel out of phase with reality because I'm not writing. Isn't that ironic? Out of phase with reality when I'm fully plunged in it and not escaping it through writing at all. Only an artist would lament the loss of the unreal in their reality. And so it goes ...
So, does this sound anything like your normal life? In a way, it's weird to live in the dull routine of everyday life when you're usually writing about the lamentations and struggles of your own characters that either resent being pulled out of it, or seeking the very rut you find yourself in now. Talk about art and life parallels.
That's all today. Take care, have a great week, and get out there and vote on Tuesday!
Bye!
The truth is that life without writing is strange, especially when you're used to having a project (or two, or three) going. Promotion only takes so much time, so you find yourself wondering how everybody else deals with this void that they call "normal."
Oh, the things we do when we aren't writing. We read. That's usually top on the list.Visit family and friends (that's been this weekend). I'd say we catch up with TV, but truthfully I'm pretty good about arranging my schedule around the few shows I watch on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. We catch up on chores and errands, and I actually started my big "fall housecleaning" this weekend. That's a project that I usually tackle over a week's time in October or November. So far, so good on that. We went to the firing range yesterday, and that was fun - we really need to do that more often but alas, the increasing cost of ammunition is often a deterrent. I'm fairly caught up with what to expect on the midterm ballots for Election Day on Tuesday. I winterized the roses and Rick and I went out to close the vents under the house and cover the outdoor faucets in preparation for our first freeze of the season tonight (it's a little early this year). And I'm planning to participate in "Share Our Stuff" day at the church on Saturday - that's our spring and fall event where we collect clothes and household items to give to the needy in the community. I'm roughly half done with Christmas shopping, the gun show is next weekend, and the craft show is the weekend after that. Plus the usual chores, errands, and time on the exercise bike.
In other words, swinging between wondering how I did it all while I was writing, and finding the joy in the simple stuff to jump start my muse once I get back to the writing in 2015. And wondering if I'll make it to then, because it's been a week, and I already feel out of phase with reality because I'm not writing. Isn't that ironic? Out of phase with reality when I'm fully plunged in it and not escaping it through writing at all. Only an artist would lament the loss of the unreal in their reality. And so it goes ...
So, does this sound anything like your normal life? In a way, it's weird to live in the dull routine of everyday life when you're usually writing about the lamentations and struggles of your own characters that either resent being pulled out of it, or seeking the very rut you find yourself in now. Talk about art and life parallels.
That's all today. Take care, have a great week, and get out there and vote on Tuesday!
Bye!
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