How have you been? Have you managed to find any respite in this painful and beautiful blue orb we call earth? I’m not gonna lie; I intended on taking a break from working on my book for ONE weekend: it has nearly been a month since I worked on it. What’s gone wrong? I delved back into life. Because when you write fiction, it transports you. At least it does me. My body slows and my mind stirs. My fingers fire rapidly across the keyboard and I write down all the pictures I see and the conversations I overhear. It is one of the most spiritual and transforming things that happens to me. So, to not be able to plug back into that has been tough.
I start with all the right heart and thought, but the fatigue of nursing my sick (common cold) children (this means early rising and fighting bedtime at night); the everlasting list of administrative matters I put off whilst rushing towards my last deadline; trying to make sure my home isn’t a hovel; and other personal matters have left me somewhat depleted.
There are lots of articles; posts and blogs about what to do with writer’s block, but this doesn’t feel like that. I have the chapter mapped out already; I just feel like I left my characters for a while and I’m trying to find a way to get back in and hang out with them. Odd? Probably. My characters are very alive for me. Most of the time, I look around when I move about, thoroughly expecting to lock eyes with them. Though to see some eyes would give me the fright of my life.
It’s probably a mixture of fear; procrastination; distraction and all things life that has brought me here. And there is no quick fix. I wrote this today, not to gripe, but to do some writing. To remind myself I do know how to connect thoughts and share what’s in the innermost part of me.
So, how do I get to where I need to be (writing those blissful words: THE END)? By reading. I am reading a lot from: ‘The Black Kids’ by Christina Hammonds Reed to: ‘Meet Cute’ an anthology of different romance YA authors. Neither books are in my vein, which is completely on purpose. The last thing I need to do is continue writing my story in someone else’s voice. This is helping somewhat, but I feel the biggest saving grace will be to block out my time again. That means making myself inaccessible at times when I could get a solid two hours of writing in a day. So, yes, I will be antisocial again, but I will get shit done.
Of course the proof is in the pudding, so I’ll have to let you know how all these lofty plans of mine actually unfold.
Wish me well, friends.
Erina Ludwig 