It's been one of those weeks, you know? Or perhaps, one of those string of weeks, I should say. I'm out of whack. Out of my routine. Off-kilter. Bummed.
I'm such a creature of habit, even though my crazy day-to-day lifestyle often warrants chaos. Really, it's not that bad, but when you travel for your paycheck, life can get rather messy sometimes. And lately, my normal travel-two-weeks-out-of-the-month schedule has turned into traveling every week. In addition, my home on the weekend routine also has been dumped in the soup the past couple of weeks. I've been home three days in the past 25 days and I won't be home again for another seven.
So okay, I deserve to be a bit out of whack, right?
Well, fine. But being out of whack means it's interfering with stuff. Stuff like writing. I've got a novella sitting on my desktop to edit and I can't muster up the energy. Oh, I know that my editor is waiting patiently for it to come back but the out-of-whack syndrome is getting in my way. I'm so tired at the end of the day I can't look at it and then when I do, all of the red marks on the page make my eyes go blurry. And let's not mention the looming deadline for another story that needs a lot of my attention.
So, you say, do you want some cheese with that whine, Maddie?
Oh, I knew this stretch was going to be difficult, that time would be precious, and that I was going to be worn out. I didn't realize how it would affect my attitude about writing.
And that's scary.
I live in fear of my day job and the travel sucking the heart out of my writing again. It's happened once before, several years ago, and I fought hard to get it back. I've vowed that it would never happen again. I still live in fear of it though.
Perhaps I should remind myself that in seven days this hiatus will be over. I'll be back in the normal routine. I'll get those edits done. I'll get the next story finished. But right now seven days feels like a long way away. But I'll perservere until I can work on the writing, get the edits finished to my satisfaction, finish the book that's been nagging at me.
But until then, I'm out of whack. I feel it. Know it. Recognize it. Hate it.
Recogniztion is half the battle, so they say, right? I'll cope with it, however.