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Last night’s post

November 11, 2012

Well, this won’t get posted in time but it IS being written in time. I’m at a hotel where the internet connection isn’t working, but I think writing with the intent to post had I access is acceptable. I’m going to forgive myself this one.

I’m visiting my husband at his Navy base this weekend, and I was thinking about how when he was in boot camp all they had to read–literally, all the reading material they were allowed to have–was their handbook. There are many reasons I couldn’t make it through boot camp–my age, my weight, my back problems–but if those weren’t an issue, I don’t know how I’d get through without reading.

Oh yes, I do. I would write. I would write every night.

Doing NaNo is supposed to get me back in touch with how much I used to love to write, but mostly it reminds me of how creaky I feel. So much of it feels clunky. I’m trying to say and do too much and I didn’t plan and I’m feeling awful about it and what I’m churning out. NaNo pushes a lack of editing–the goal is to write, write, and then write some more. But it’s so rare when I’m writing that I feel like I’m slipping into that old writer persona.

Part of it, I think, is that I’ve learned more about the CRAFT of writing, and I’m always worried about where things are and where they need to go and do I have a plot, and where are the turns. I NEVER did this when I was young. I never finished anything, either, but I certainly had a better time with it. I’ve seen this in other writers too–the more they learn, the less comfortable they are writing. They’re too used to doing it because they have to, and forget how to do it because they WANT to. I think I’m going to lose my favorite author because she’s burned out.

Sometimes in November, I feel burned out, and sometimes I don’t. My choice to redo an old project has pushed me to the burn-out point from the beginning, and I’m sad. I thought writing old beloved characters would make me feel like I was slipping on that old persona, the one that loved writing for the sake of writing and loved the hell out of the characters and seeing where they were taken. But they were created for a television show. They weren’t meant to be a book. Because I haven’t planned, I haven’t really seen how they could translate. And because of that, they DON’T. And I don’t want to write. And I’m stalled.

This weekend I’m with my husband so I won’t get any writing done. It was a long trip and as soon as he has to get back to the barracks, if not before then, I’ll be asleep. I knew this going in. Tomorrow will be more time with him and another drive. No real writing time there, unless I do it while he’s fixing my car. (Could I do it myself? Probably. But I don’t waaaanna. I’m stressed enough as it is. I’ve fixed headlights before, but on different cars, and it’s gotta be like almost ten years now. Maybe when the next one goes out, I’ll figure it out, but not now.) Then Monday I was going to write all day, except we have inspections on our apartment complex next week and I’m afraid they’ll get mad because of all the book boxes. AND I have a going-away party to go to for one of my favorite co-workers.

AND SO ON.

Every night is booked next week until Saturday. One night is a write-in, but people get social and little gets done.

Maybe it’s not just burn out, but exhaustion. And the stress. Now that my husband isn’t around 24/7, I don’t feel as capable of just taking an hour to myself and writing. I can’t foist housecleaning on him 30 days out of the year this year.

This SUCKS, and I’m stressing about stressing.

I’m going to cuddle with my husband. It doesn’t add to my word count, but it will make me feel better, especially since I’m not 100% sure when I’ll be seeing him again next.

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