So I slammed into a wall last weekend. I didn’t think it was coming right until I went head first into it. I should have known it was coming from how sick Mom’s been and how sick I’ve been. But I slammed face first into it. When it came time to write last week’s blog post, the words weren’t there, and the ideas didn’t materialize.
I’ve been fighting the feeling that I should be further along in my writing career than where I am. That I’m not hustling enough. Never mind that I’m working a full time job and all am the primary caretaker for my mother. And I felt like a failure. What good is a writer who can’t write?
Then this article popped up in my RSS reader. I read it. I reread it. I cried. Combined with a reminder by my writing mentor that I am doing things (prepping queries, outlining other novels, and so on) that may not be putting words on the page, but do constitute the business of writing. I am still a writer.
So I’m trying to go easier on myself. Allow myself some downtime. Remind myself that even if I’m not putting words on the page, I am still working towards my goal. It’s not a sprint, but a marathon. It will take as long as it takes.