I found this comment on my blog today:
“You haven't posted in awhile. I trust you've wrapped your mind around an idea and you're flying with it. :) “
She put a smiley there so I guess she must know that had I an idea I would’ve posted. I do have a few snippets..little pests. But no full grown animal.
Since Friday I’ve been helping two friends who have been very sick. One in the hospital, the other at home. So I keep saying to myself it’s a good thing I’m not writing. That’s true, in a way. I’d be a bit resentful if I was in the middle of a book. But I’m not.
Tomorrow will be the 1st of March. I blew January and February, my favorite months to write. Maybe it’s all over for me. Maybe there won’t be a 20th book. We know I’m not a Gorman or a Randisi so this might be the end. Nineteen books isn’t a bad record. Still, I’m not ancient and have all my marbles. So why would it be over for me?
Think of Harper Lee. One book and out. I’m not comparing myself as a writer with her, but who says one has to write book after book? I made this 20 book goal for myself so I can break it if I want to.
But I’m a writer and writers write. I know you’re not supposed to define yourself by what you do. Actually, who said that? I do define myself that way. So I’ll keep reading and thinking and hoping. That’s all I can do right now.