The last few months of writing have been tough.
Given the choice between doing laundry and working on my novel, I’d choose the former — and anyone who knows me knows how much I HATE doing laundry. I’ve blamed fear, writer’s block, laziness, just about everything for my lack of motivation. It had really been a push to get me out of bed in the morning, and I couldn’t understand why — anyone who knows me knows how much I LOVE to write. Especially in the morning.
And then something happened in the last week or so. I found my mojo. I rediscovered the joy of writing. I have no idea how or when it happened, but it did. I just found myself wanting to write again. I’m laughing again, enjoying the journey again. Perhaps it’s because the school year ended and so have many of my responsibilities there. Less stress. Maybe it’s the longer days and the warmer weather. Maybe it’s the pressure of the oncoming deadline, which always seems to bring out the best in my writing.
Who cares? Whatever the reason, I just hope this newfound creativity sticks around for a while. Laundry piles be damned.