In 2010 I belonged to the book a month club. What’s that you ask? It’s where I wrote a 25k book every month and submitted them to my former editor. Let’s just say 2010 was good and bad. I was fully engulfed in grief after the loss of our son. I poured my grief into my books. Needless to say I was very productive.
As 2011 came along I started feeling a little better. My grief was there but I didn’t need an outlet for it. I had learned to deal with it. Then I became pregnant with our daughter. I wrote what I could because I knew time would be scarce once she arrived.
I continued to write, but now I was produced three books averaging about 30k. Then one day I sat to write and I couldn’t. The words just wouldn’t flow. I had published almost 20 books in a few short years. I tried and tried to no avail.
Instead of trying to force it I gave up. I thought I’d never write again. For so long I’d been able to write a book, edit, and submit, turn around and start a new one. Wash, Rinse, Repeat.
During that time I read. I lived life. I forgot about writing. Then I sat down and wrote three more novellas. I thought I was back in my stride. Nope. Again the words weren’t coming. I was pushing myself too hard to be everything – mom, wife, writer, and full-time employee. I realized I was burnt out.
Something paid the price and it was my writing. Now I can see the signs. When I don’t want to sit and write because it feels more like a job than fun – it’s time to step back and smell the roses.
Now I take a break to read, get a massage or just live. It may take a few days or week, but I know I’ll return to writing. It’s in my blood.