Okay, I lied. I didn’t go back to work on June 5th. Or 6th. Or today. I made a decision over the weekend that I was going to take the summer off. I’ve been wanting a whole summer for decades.
Maybe if I were on a roll with this book I’d keep going now. But I’m not. And as I’ve said ad nauseum, no one is waiting for this novel.
But what to do about the guilt? I feel it in my gut. If this is going to continue I’m going to have to write. And I really don’t want to now. If I have to go back to writing the book will suffer.
I’ve published 19 novels. I should get points for that. I know Ed McBain published over a hundred (I think) wrote from 9 to 6 and never took off a day. I don’t think he did. The McBain historians are welcome to correct me. But even if I’m off by this or that, the man still wrote and published all the time.
I’m not comparing myself to him in anyway, how could I? I’m just using him as an example of someone who wrote and wrote and here I am having published 19 and thinking I need a vacation.
It’s not so much need as want. But what fun is it going to be with a fist in my stomach? I’m hoping this will go away. I want to spend a lot of time reading. And if it ever stops raining I want to lie in my hammock to do that.
Also, I’ll be able to stay up for the Yankee games if they run late. I’ll be able to do a lot of things I can’t do when I’m on my writing schedule. Not feeling the way I do today, however.
I’ll just have to wait and see. Maybe I’ll ease into this thing.
I fully intend to start writing again after Labor Day. Go back to work like everybody else.
I’ll continue to post here about things that have to do with writing. And I’ll try not to whine about my guilt.