Taking a break from writing has been a weird experience. Save for my critique on the new piece last week, I’ve taken some time off from fiction (and apparently, blogging). I hopped on a plane to another city and changed both my scenery and my company, letting my mind fall away from the insanity that’s still in front of me. I’m not sure if it helped or harmed. Maybe it just is.
I was delayed in Kennedy for an eternity. I could have finished up my synopsis or pushed my query letter a little harder, but I just sort of went blank. (I fell asleep in front of Gate 25 instead.) Now that I’ve called the book “done,” I’m feeling a little detached from it, which obviously, isn’t good as I still have the mountain of the slush pile to attack.
I’m hoping that right now is just a reflection of the ebb and flow of how one feels about her work - or that I certainly find myself experiencing on a regular basis - and that once I start finding a little bit of time (which, now in my new editorial job as of Monday, seems like a distant fantasy) to compile the list of agents, reignite my contacts, and start pushing hard again, I’ll snap back into it. I’m waiting on some industry editorial feedback, which will hopefully be positive and help with the reignition. I still want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I guess I just need to shake the “shy” away.
Who am I, again?
M
