Disconnect

I feel like I write the best when I write a little bit everyday. In the late winter/early spring time I was on a roll. My hands were constantly in my story, I barely had to re-read what I wrote from one writing session to the next. I was always in the moment, my characters and plot consistently somewhere in my mind, whether it be in the forefront or the background. I could take a fifteen minute break in the day and use it to pump out a decent amount of wordage.

Lately, writing has become sporadic. And I find it's harder to squeeze in productive writing sessions. I still try though, but often I have to re-read the last couple of pages just to reacquaint myself with the setting and the mood. And right when I get to the end of what I'm reading, itching to grab the pen and plunge in, that's precisely when life interrupts me. Sigh. I close my notebook and shift my attention to life.

As this happens more and more, a negative attitude sets in of why even try because I know as soon as I try to re-read any of my manuscript in preparation to write, something will pop up and thwart my intentions. And then before you know it a couple, then several days pass without writing a word because I'm searching for that ideal time to write; a couple of free hours to dedicate to my pen and imagination. Soon, the guilt sets in as I realize I'm not giving my goals one hundred percent. I'll never finish this draft.

When I listen to an audio book or walk by books at the store or library I no longer feel that surge of exhilaration that comes with dreaming and aspiring. There's a total disconnect. And then when I do find time to write, I'll choose to peruse my manuscript instead only to disbelieve that I actually wrote any of it. I'm mental, what can I say.

Eventually, I put myself back together and the writing and the dreaming proceeds again without a hitch, but only after I take the time to crawl out of the swampy disconnect that I've created for myself.