Miss me? Been a while, I know. Geeze, I thought this notebook deal would make the blogging easier. Just jot down whatever the hell popped into my mind every day or so and bingo, steady blog fodder. Shows what I know. This guy, this character, the dying guy? Turns out he doesn’t know what he wants to do, or I don’t know what he wants to do. And I can’t really blame the guy, right? I mean he just found out eternity was knocking and he was gonna have to answer the door real soon. Real soon. It would put me off my feed, that’s for sure. Now the guy’s got a plan – and I’m beginning to piece that together, but there’s something else going on, and it’s got nothing to do with the character. Who I really need to name one of these days, if for no other reason than so I can stop calling him the guy.
But the other reason has to do with me.
See, I think I’m a little burnt out. I know the mantra. Keep writing, every day or near to it. Hell, I’ve given the sermon here, and over at Chuck Wendig’s Terribleminds blog, I’m a guest preacher next week and I’ll be giving the same damn sermon there. But does there come a time when maybe you should just take a little break?
It’s not like I haven’t been writing. If you’ve been reading along, then you know I wrote an entire freaking novel in a couple of months right here on the old blog. Cranked out a short over at Crimefactory while I was at it. Knocked out a mess of flash fiction pieces. I’ve been a good boy.
But I’ve got one novel out on submission already – it’s been out on submission about a year now. Did a major rewrite on that, and both the rewrite and the original are still making the rounds. Novel two is getting the once over by my agent, and I’m sure she’ll have some ideas on that soon, which will make for some more work, but the easy kind, if you can call it that. The polishing kind. But also the kind that’s going to raise some questions. Because novel two, while not a sequel to novel one exactly, is the second in that series, so I’ve got how-to-you-try-to-sell-the-second-in-a-series-when-you-haven’t-sold-the-first questions clogging up the mental arteries, which isn’t helping.
So I’m thinking maybe I should shut things down for a week or two, at least until I talk over book two with crime uber agent Stacia Decker. Cleanse the palate a bit. Take a little vacation from banging my head against the fictional wall.
Except that’s making me feel guilty, like it I’m making excuses, like I’m some kind of slug.
I know, I know. You tuned in for the notebook. You tuned in to follow along on what I was working on, not to listen to why I wasn’t working. Too bad. My notebook. I get to write whatever I want in it. Even if I just whine in it sometimes.
So what do you think? Do writers need to take time off sometimes, or should I just write, even if I’m just writing crap?