To Give It Up

The flavor company for which I work gives everyone in the Flavor Creation & Application division the days between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day off. Some say this is because we have so many international employees that our company is giving them the time to go home to Germany, China, New Zealand, Brazil, or wherever else. Whether this is true isn’t the point. The point is, I’m from the States—my hometown is three and a half hours north of where I currently live, in fact—and have twelve days off.

Last Friday, I would have told you I had great writing plans for these twelve days. My WIP was sitting at 57,000 words and the climax was approaching. My MS needed a POV change and some tweaks based on CP feedback. I also had many pages to read for my critique partners. And, of course, I wanted to write lots of blog entries. Last Friday, I would have told you I would spend these twelve days doing all these writer things.

Truth? I haven’t answered any writer emails in four days. I haven’t done anything CP-wise in five days. I haven’t touched my MS in six days. I haven’t written a word in my WIP in eight days. I haven’t touched my query for my MS in eighteen days.

This isn’t to say I haven’t had free time. Yes, my husband and I traveled a few days to visit family and spent a few other days with family in town—but I still managed to read Lauren Kate’s TEARDROP (in a little over forty-eight hours because it was THAT GOOD) and I’m about a hundred pages into Alison Cherry’s RED. I didn’t take my laptop with me when I traveled, but that doesn’t excuse me from writing. I’ve been known to snatch the nearest receipt, napkin, or stray strip of paper to scrawl down ideas before they run away from me.

So what’s the problem? The problem is that since the end of the summer, I’ve devoted at least some of every day to something related to writing. Then came vacation and Christmas and suddenly I’m out of my writing groove. The reason I’ve been so disciplined since summer is that I have to be to keep myself going—once I stop, it’s hard to start going again. Emails start to pile up, along with days I haven’t written, and I start to imagine all the things wrong with what I’ve written. This in turn leads me to doubt my chances of ever getting published. This in turn decreases my motivation to jump back into any writing thing. This in turn makes me think I should just give it up.

If I gave it up, that would release a lot of stress. I could spend more time with my husband and more time reading. I LOVE to read. I could read forever and be happy—at least that’s what I can convince myself in moments like these. But then I read something amazing, something that makes me laugh or cry or just think, “Holy &%$&, that’s SO GOOD,” and I start to feel it all over again. What’s it? It is that drive, that desperation to write something that touches some reader the way whatever I’ve just read has touched me. This is what makes me feel awful that I’ve neglected writing for so many days. I can’t give it up. I can’t imagine not writing. I can’t imagine not striving to find a book I’ve written on the shelves of the nearest bookstore.

So here’s the thing. I’ve got a few errands to run. When I get back, I’m going to force myself to sit down at my computer. I’m going to answer the emails I’ve neglected. I’m going to see what CP responses I’ve gotten and dive into my MS or query. I’m going to keep going today, tomorrow, and every day it takes to finish this quest. I’m not going to give it up.