Okay. I was going to write this post yesterday but I thought my dilemma would blow over. It hasn't. Actually, I was going to post about it a week ago, but decided not to since I thought it would blow over. It didn't. In truth, the main reason I started this blog...about a week ago...was to help me get over it. I haven't. Friggin' writer's block.
The weather has been great, my days have been starting off with nice long walks and strong espresso, but I'm not getting diddly squat done. Writing, I mean. I've had the last two weeks off from my normal routine of hopping planes, etc., and my goal was to knock off a few chapters of the novel I started writing two years ago. I'm about half way through the first draft, and have lost my focus…not about what to write…its about sittin' my boney ass down and doin' some work…just doin' it. Having this chunk of free time should have been a blessing. Instead, it's giving me great pangs of guilt.
Funny thing is, when it comes to work-related tasks, I am so uber-focused and disciplined that my wife says it gets downright scary. Bombs can explode next to me and I would ignore them; the phone can ring and I won't answer it; I can sit at the computer for six hours straight without so much as a potty break; the only thing that occasionally takes me out of the zone is the dog…shivering, legs crossed, wearing the "I gotta' pee" face, and nudging me with her cold nose. And even this would happen less frequently if I wasn't forced to notice the little yellow stains on my carpet every day.
Of course, I get paid for the work-related stuff. The book is just a labor of love.
Have I lost the love?