Currently, I’ve got four books about creative writing lying in the close vicinity of my computer desk (and thus the place where I usually write).
In addition, I’ve been organising my writing a lot, using One Note to gather all the information and ideas about my stories.
But, as always when I think I’m prepared, the muse went on vacation and took my self-discipline with her. Probably they’re enjoying a spa somewhere in southern France while I write this.
I should be writing an Avatar fan fiction. I should be writing an SF story. I should be writing an adventure story. I should be writing a crime story for kids. I am, currently, writing the third post in a row. Well, at least I’m writing something.
I’ve had four days of vacation during the last week of January. I could have written pages upon pages. I wrote about zero pages. (Well, plus the pages I’ve written this evening as posts.)
It’s always like this: either I have the time to write or I find the self-discipline and inspiration (one of them is usually sufficient) to write. It’s never during the same moments.
It’s strange, though. I feel hurt at the moment (because of my best friend, but there’s another post about her) and suddenly I turn back to the keyboard. I’m stressed because of all the work we have to do at the company and suddenly I find the strength to write four or five pages an evening after work. I go on vacation and I can’t put a single letter down.
Maybe I need some stress to function as a writer. Or maybe I was just lazy during the last days.