I've been out of it for the last couple of days. Besides cleaning up flour (she got into it again two days later, I didn't find it nearly as amusing the second time) I've been reading.
I love getting lost in a book. It doesn't happen often. Too often the writer in me kicks in and whispers in my mind how I could have done it better or how I should just quit writing because I'll never be able to match this. When I can leave the writer behind and simply enjoy a book, I'm thrilled. I was reading Charlaine Harris' latest Sookie Stackhouse book. I had a hard time putting it down and finished it in a couple of days. It was just one of those books for me. All of her Sookie books are like that for me and it makes me happy. The one downside to being a writer is that buzzing in your head you have when you read for pleasure.
Another reason for my phantom presence is a far more bitter pill to swallow. I like video games. I bought myself a James Bond game (Everything or Nothing) and told my son he couldn't play it since it was rated "Teen." The truth was I knew if he played it, he'd do better than me. Well, the "Teen" argument doesn't hold much water because he has some Star Wars games that have that rating. So I let him play it. As I suspected, he immediately has gone further than me. And he used something to finish a level I could never get halfway with. Darn ten year olds.
On the writing front....sigh. I want to write to sell. Who doesn't? But I can feel it pressing on me when I am writing. And I end up writing stuff I don't enjoy. This has been preying on my mind a lot lately. It brings up the question how much I am willing to concede in my writing in order to get published? If I write strictly from the heart and it doesn't sell, it is painful in that I have poured time and effort into it for naught. Particularly if it is a historical. It means I've not only spent time writing but I've spent hours upon hours upon hours for research.
Another feeling I have is that I'm not mentally pushing myself as far as I can go. I'm allowing my creativity to get lazy and not demand more from it. I'm not sure if it is true, but I feel like I can do better. No, its not a perfection issue. It is more like there is a book in my head and it is trying to get out. Unfortunately, the route out from my brain to my computer is cloudy and blocked, probably from all the flour I've cleaned up.
I'm still working on a couple of things and I like them. But that haunting feeling is still there.
