Pardon me, Dear Readers, for the weeks of blog silence. I could tell you that it was the result of being swamped with paying work, which cannot be ignored. I could also tell you that this month I’ve flirted with the melancholy that rises when your youngest child has left home and home must be reconfigured in your heart. For additional distraction, I’ve been trying to hold said melancholy at bay by calling up contractors to give me estimates on kitchen remodeling. And I could, and will, tell you that my hiatus in blogging is definitely the result of my oh-so-common fall off the writing horse.
Loss of commitment and courage. Presence of doubt and fear. This month I have suffered, like so many other writers, the sudden withdrawal of inspiration, the muse, the ingenium. I’ve been writing but not much. I’m distracted by everything and everyone. It is not writer’s block, not yet and hopefully never, but it is a portent to be taken seriously. Like a small stroke.
It’s time to get on the horse, and do whatever is necessary to get myself back on the road to regular writing and being a writer. The horse may fight me. In my experience, when you don’t ride horses they become stubborn and more unpredictable than usual. Certainly there will be weeks of dancing and backstepping, a lot of head tossing. But better to get on the horse now rather than later.
I’m moving forward slowly on the WIP. Yesterday was a good writing day and I actually learned something important about one of the main characters. Soon I’ll be posting on the whimsical illustrations Zelde Grimm has completed for one of my stories, and I’ll be reviewing Blood Kin by Steve Rasnic Tem. Also, I’ve actually got rough drafts of two short stories that I planned to post here, but now, I think I might urge this horse to jump the creek (to take this metaphor beyond its usefulness) and actually submit at least one of the stories to a magazine. Wish me well.