Before the new year was born, I was inspired to turn over a new leaf and get serious about my writing. I was going to have a meaningful presence on Facebook and Twitter. I was going to write a daily (daily!) blog. I was going to finish up my projects that lie waiting my resolution. And other things that I can’t even remember. Oh, I was going to market my stuff.
And Christmas break happened. The only thing I was able to accomplish was to send off two of my short stories, one of them to a contest and the other to a magazine. And I just remember: I posted a question on a possible publisher’s blog regarding two of my books.
But no writing. I have excuses; legitimate ones. Of course, there are always excuses. It goes back to my statement about writing being a mind game. Right now, my day job has got my brain wrapped up like a pretzel, and I find my creativity level at about -3 on a 1 to 10 scale. Not sure what the answer is, even.
Maybe I should wait for inspiration to strike. Maybe I should just put away my writing hat until summer. (Not sure things will be better by then, though.) Maybe I should quit my day job and write what I love while the creditors come and my family starves.
All I know is that without writing–creative writing–I am a miserable soul.