These last couple of weeks, I'm realizing that I have a burning desire to write, and my writing hours aren't meshing with that desire. My ability to produce, has been blindsided by one thing after another.
Sure, I'm still putting in words daily, and I'm still making sure I devote the effort, but I'm getting increasingly frustrated with the number of things that are intent on deterring me.
The latest was my living room.
Today while I'm getting things in order and gearing up for what would be a productive night of writing, with the ability to knock out at least half of my remaining words needed to complete a book, a friend of mine walks into my kitchen and says, "There's a puddle in your living room."
Well, my first instinct was, "Damn dog."
Oh no. It couldn't be that simple. My roof is leaking. Which put my mind on roof repairs for the rest of the day. And that means my weekend is now devoted to repairing the roof. Now, I have a pan keeping water off my hardwood floor and praying for everything to freeze solid. Snow, that I was bemoaning and hoping would go away, I want to stick around. Heck, big fat chunks of ice that take years to thaw out would be awesome right now. Anything to stop the plink plink plink background noise and the reminder that I have a headache to deal with that I can't fix immediately.
All of which is making it terribly difficult to focus on conflict resolution and happily ever afters.
But for those of you who are having similiar experiences with confined muses, take heart. If you can manage to drown out the noise, when you can tap into that muse and escape the reality for a little while, it does make the pounding in your head a little easier to deal with. The hammers might start up again the minute you get away from the computer, but as I've learned in the short tidbits of time I've been able to steal since January started -- for a little while, everything is normal and calm when I can craft words.
If I can just figure out how to, say, keep the kids from drowning the cat when I send one to help the other wash his hands... I might be able to eek out a few more words each day.
Happy writing all.