This summer has really been kicking my ass. Theoretically, summer ought to mean more free time. With no set schedule, we spend lots of time at the beach and at pools and the library and parks, all of which sounds very relaxing, right?
Except that with two small children, trips to the beach and the pool aren’t actually particularly relaxing. They’re marathons of reapplying sunscreen, distributing snacks, playing Solomon over the most coveted sand toys, and ensuring that nobody drowns. Not exactly the best time to get lost in writing. And, even worse, these fun-but-exhausting trips leave me unable to write in the evenings since my energy is completely sapped.
So, despite having no schedule and, seemingly plenty of time, I haven’t actually touched my manuscript since June [shocked emoji face]. It’s the end of July now [double shocked emoji faces]. It’s bad.
Worse, I can feel my attitude toward writing changing. A few weeks ago, the idea of being able to sit down to write was exciting. Now it’s mildly terrifying. This is what happens when you don’t keep pedaling. The idea of getting back out there becomes terrifying.
I’ve not completely abandoned the prospect of finishing the book, though. Summer is the perfect time for light reading, so I’ve been reading a lot of books that are similar in tone and style to mine. I’m not so much looking for help with writing as I am building a list of comparable titles and getting a list of the agents that might represent them (acknowledgements at the end of books are massively helpful in this regard). This is all wildly premature (I haven’t even touched my book in a month!) but at least it makes me feel like I’m making some kind of progress.
And today I’m making yogurt. This has nothing to do with writing, obviously, but I figured I should come back to the title of this post eventually. I’m making yogurt in my lovely new Instant Pot on this cool, overcast day. No, it’s not writing. But at least it’s not a complete waste of time. After all, at least I can eat the yogurt.