The more I write, the more I want to write.
The less I write, the harder writing gets.
Writing is hard no matter WHAT, but I find after a few days of only being able to give my WIP a handful of minutes before bed, the harder it is to get past this point. With the holiday weekend, I barely got any writing time in and it’s been hard to get back on target this week.
I’m in a bit of a rough patch. Questioning pushing myself to finish this WIP or to go back and focus on the MSs that are ready to go out. Questioning, period. I know I should lose myself in reading a good book, but I’ve been on a bit of an unlucky streak lately (probably because I’ve been downloading free books).
The only real solution is to get back in and write. To write, write, write. To push myself to write. Because the more I write, the more I want to write. It’s still hard, I still get stuck, but that desire gets me over the hump.
Years ago I would have given in to this feeling, and I likely would have written less and less day by day until I’d gone a month or two without writing.
I don’t give into that thought anymore, because I know where it leads, and I know where I want to go. Where it leads and where I want to go are two opposing places.
So, I keep writing.