I've been consumed with the presidential election. CON-SUMED.
Between that and (GULP) buying a house, I've been a bad writer.
I knew the political distractions would be intense but from July through early October I've had another distraction. First it was: need house, need house, need house. Then it was: found house, found house, damn - it's sold; found house, found house, damn - it's sold.
It was an emotional time and even though it only took a month and half (less if you count down from when I finally admitted I wasn't just looking), I feel like it took a year.
Finally, in September we found one. THE one? It's so hard to say after looking at many awful ones, a few good ones that slipped away, and finally being that magical first bid. But this I'll say, it's a wonderful house and I'm beyond happy with it.
I've finished setting up my new office (my own PRIVATE space) and keep cracking my knuckles to dive back into writing. Just in time to take off November for NaNoWriMo. Yes, that's still writing - very important writing - but it's not my blog or my novel. Might I take this year off? Hell, no.
So, like any muscle, I have to work back up to competitive levels. I need to blog short and sweet. I need to edit a minimum of an hour (or 3 lb weight equivalent) each night, and I need to research e-publishing so I don't feel like I'm functioning in a strange dream that keeps shifting.
So damn you life for interrupting me with interesting qualities of living. Stop inspiring me with potential plot lines while I'm being a lazy writer. I'm on overload and spinning in circles like a two-year old on Coke.
