I’ve said it a million times over: when it comes to writing and creating, I seem to burst with ideas and projects in the fall. It’s the electricity in the air. It’s the leaves. It’s the absence of mosquitoes. Ideas have been coming at me nonstop (like legit novels, dear reader; me, who looks at the commitment of a novel with the side-est of eye), and I’ve actually not allowed them to languish in the cushiest, warmest corners of my mind, never to see the light of day. I’ve actually been working on them. It’s kind of amazing.
But it’s short-lived, y’all. This creating high will last as long as autumn lasts, which doesn’t last long at all.
Here’s the thing: I get writers laziness and/or block every month of the year. These have been pervasive problems since this writing thing took chose me all those years ago. Which also meant that the most isolating of passions chose me and brought with it, on the downside, inaction, inertia, and times when my particular muse just doesn’t want to deal with me. It’s a writerly thing. (Writing is like, that’s all you, sweetheart. Don’t be blaming me for everything.) Anyway, that’s OK. No passion is 100 percent perfect. It’s the conflicting, fluctuating nature of it all. I get it. It’s just that I want that electric, thrilling, creative push for more than a month or so.
A random voice in my head: yeah, so what are you going to do about that?
I don’t know. Just keep writing, I suppose, regardless of the season. Oh, were you expecting a grand denouement to all of this blog chatter, a remedy for this constant struggle? See below.