Elizabeth Drakes's Site

Fantasy Romance

flu

I Clearly Misplaced It

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Looking for my motivation. Yes, I’ve clearly misplaced it, but I’m not sure where.

unnamed-2

That’s not entirely true.

We’ve had a run of nasty sicknesses in my house. From ear infections, to stomach flu, to five-day fevers, we haven’t had more than a couple weeks all year where someone in the house isn’t sick. Work has also been really busy, and my lunch hour has been usurped so that I can still make it home in time for the kids. We snuck in a mini-vacation as well.

Yet, that’s only part of it. I was super busy going into the new year, but I still found time to write. Even as we faced the holidays, which are my peak time at work, and potential unemployment and loss of benefits, I still made time to write.

But that isn’t happening now.

motivation
You and me both!

I examined my work-in-progress. Perhaps the story is weak or the characters are flat, but I don’t think that’s it. The hero has been teasing around in my thoughts for a couple of years. The heroine is newer, but I feel like she’s well flushed out. I really get her personality, her background, and her desires. The plot dancing around the romance isn’t as robust as it could be. I’ve spent some time thinking it through, and I’m closer to having all of it nailed down without pigeon-holing my characters.

Remember, the moment I write an outline, the story is dead. But I do know where it’s going. Mostly.

Yet, I still haven’t been applying bottom to chair and making the first draft words happen. Why is that?

Honestly, I’m not sure.

I did recently get a new laptop so I don’t have to be cut-off from the family while writing. Perhaps that’s my issue. I’m less inclined to isolate myself to put words on the page. Apparently, being around other humans, even small ones, steals away my ability to write.

Maybe it’s something else. Something a little deeper.

After two years and three novels, I still have nothing published. Nothing ready to publish. My plan had been to finish the book I’m currently working on and then go back and make the final(?) round of revisions to Crowned Prince before trying to get an agent for it.

Perhaps I should contemplate working on a revision for either of the other two novels I have completed instead. I just don’t want to forget how to write fresh words. It’s a skill, like any other, and must be practiced. And it’s easy for me to get sucked into editing, letting the more analytical side of me take over.

Maybe it’s something else entirely.

Not the doubt demon, not exactly, but sometimes I feel like I’m spinning my wheels.

Demon
I haven’t forgotten you.

I’ve devoted a lot of time to writing for the past two years. I even worked on Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving. At the end of that time, I have some pixels on a screen, but little else. No agent. No book deal. Not even a manuscript that’s truly ready for an agent.

I’ve worked hard at it, and it feels like I’ve accomplished nothing.

I know me. I know making things happen motivates me. To have spent so much time on something and feel like I have nothing to show for it makes me rethink how I’m spending my time. Makes me question if I should be spending time on this.

I have to remind myself I haven’t really failed yet. I’ve barely tried. A handful of query letters a year ago barely counts as a full effort. And yet…giveup

 

Have you ever found yourself lacking motivation? What did you do to get your motivation back? Did it work?

Time Thief: The Common Cold

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Yeah, I’m kinda a baby about being sick.

Being sick sucks.

Combine the common cold with one of the busiest, most hectic times of the year for me at my day-job, and you have a recipe for a cantankerous person. A cantankerous person with no energy or will to get off the sofa much less write.

I can really see no upside to being sick. You ache. Your ears itch and burn. Your throat feels like you used sandpaper on it. Your back hurts from coughing and sneezing. And your whole face feels like it’s stuffed with so much cotton that you should be sneezing it instead.

Things you took for granted, you now have to think about. Like breathing. Especially breathing.

Doing any task, even small ones, suddenly seems overwhelming. Like getting up to make that third cup of honey-infused tea that people promise will make you feel better. (Hint: they’re lying.) Or going to the bathroom after that third cup of honey-infused tea.

I totally know where I got it from. The “heroes” at work that came in sick because we couldn’t possibly function a couple of days while they kept their germs at home, rested, and got better.

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Of course, once the VP of Engineering and the VP of Sales come to work with the Martian Death Flu, or whatever is going around, we’re all expected to suck it up and come.

So of course I did.

Taking medicine rarely helps me. I replace the aches and misery with a lesser form of it, but then I get fuzzy-brained, easily confused, and forgetful.

Concentration is hard with a cold, even if I am taking over-the-counter medicine that still requires me to show three forms of ID, and that makes my day-job very difficult. I’m supposed to be analyzing things and piecing together a coherent picture from disparate data. With a cold, I’m lucky if I can figure out how to piece together a sandwich.

Writing has come to an abrupt halt. Not sure if I should keep poking at it, or just accept I’m sick and leave it alone.

I want to say that anything I do write won’t be worth the electrons spent on it. But that’s not entirely true. It’s just that much harder. And with everything else going on, maybe I’m just going to cut myself some slack, rest and get better.