The last couple of weeks provide more evidence, as if I needed any, that I’m happier when I’m writing than when I’m not writing.
January flew by in a blaze of productivity, as I returned to a disciplined writing schedule and churned out word count on Rogue Souls: 14,819, to be exact, taking the novel past the halfway point. Not quite NaNo numbers, but I wasn’t aiming that high. Not bad!
But when February arrived, I crashed, and haven’t written a lick since. Part of it was the day job rearing its ugly head, part of it was writing fatigue, but on some level I think a petulant corner of my brain acts up after about a month of sustained wordsmithing and starts resenting the daily-grind-y-ness of getting that Ass In Chair every day — especially on top of a full-time job. “I don’t want to write this month!” *holds breath*
Also, I’m happy to note that blogging doesn’t seem to distract me from writing fiction. In fact, I seem to blog more when I’m writing fiction.
January: writing hard, happy, productive, kicking ass.
February: not writing, pissy, grumbly, procrastinating and wasting time.
Tomorrow I’m going to try to get back at it, re-work the second half of my outline and gear up for another push. Every time I think I’ve figured out my effective writing method, the target moves on me.