Lately I've struggled with a new job.
The job is great, the work fulfilling and the day goes fast. But...
I have no energy to write when I get home... ugh. I'm exhausted, I pick up my daughter and know that I have to get some food into her before she becomes the cranky gal that lurks just below the surface. In addition, if I get to my computer before she's asleep, she usually hits a button and does some seemingly quick mash up of my screen, turning it completely green, upside down or just plain off-without-saving, and I scream, "Child WHAT DID YOU DO?"
She knows she'll get some random garble of consonants when she does this and she laughs in her cute little giggle that drives me both wild with aggitation, but bonkers with the "How cute" sentiment saved for looking at horrible photos of kittens or puppies with thought-bubbles filled with seemingly clever one-liners.
Nope, the writing lays on my computer untouched. To date, in the last year I have begun over 20 stories and have not finished one beyond the first half of the story. Horrible, I know. The Stephen King of On Writing would slap my hand right now, were he not fearful I wouldn't charge him with assault...which of course I wouldn't. At least not until after I persuaded him to mentor me. Ha ha. Seriously, Steve, I wouldn't-I'm not like that.... but alas, I don't feel much like a writer. So mentioning one of the most successful horror writers of my generation (and my folks'-whoops, I'm not doing Mr. King much justice in this post), seems a tad bit heretical.
Gumption, energy, interest, devotion.... all words that do not describe my writing attempts at late. Perhaps Blog Carnival-induced fatigue? Nah.... Perhaps induced by receiving two separate rejections of two stories that I submitted in May? Perhaps... (nodding.) Ugh. I should just start posting my short stories on an epublishing website...
Arguments or opinions?