I have been in denial the past few months. But more than one dear friend has mentioned it to me recently and I had to finally own up to the fact. I have been completely distracted.
Not a whole lot of writing for book 2 has been getting done. It's plotted, and three chapters are complete, but I have not been consistant with my daily writing as I should be. There is a lot of guilt and pressure associated with failing to meet my daily goals. And to avoid feeling bad about it, I avoid writing some more.
It all started when I published Dream Walker. After being cooped up in the corner alone for over a year, the thrill of getting out there, the rush of marketing and promoting the book, was invigorating. Ahhh... PEOPLE again.
Then came my birthday, and the Spring. The sunshine, the opportunities to hit the road, to see new landscapes, and to meet MORE people, was too tempting. And I embraced it.
The final distraction came in the form of one person in particular. In the midst of meeting all these interesting, wonderful and inspiring people, one stood out. And it caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting it at all. But again, I went with it, got caught up in the flow of what the Universe had brought into my life. I took advantage a hike at the river, a concert road trip, saving kittens and the general hanging out.
In the back of my mind I questioned whether it is good for me -- if I am not meeting my goals -- if I am feeling sidetracked.
This morning, I was lounging in the bath contemplating it all and my Muse showed up. For those who haven't met Muse, he's what many would call an imaginary friend. I say he is real, he just isn't manifested fully in the 3D. Anyway, he lets me vent all this, lament my guilt about not being further along in Time Walker and emotionally vomit all over his cloak.
He was not fazed in the least.
"You can't write about life, if you don't live it."
"If you were locked in your room writing Time Walker, you wouldn't have seen that dirty moon with a chunk of its head missing. You wouldn't have noticed how it looked hungover and grumpy after taking on too much Cinco de Mayo."
"If you were staring at your computer, channeling disincarnate characters to the page, you would have missed that one REAL touch across your back and that kiss on your neck that stopped your breath and made you shiver."
"You have been emotionaly flatlined for too long. All those confused thoughts and intense feelings roiling in your mind and heart are a gift; a palette of vibrant color and flavor for you to paint with later. Savor it. Know it. Understand it. Then translate it to the page so others can see themself in the picture you paint with words."
"Roll around in the petri dish of life, absorb it all, because it is ALL SO FLEETING. Then put it in your writing so it can be immortal."
"And yes. It is good for you."
That's what Muse said.
Maybe he is right. Maybe distraction is part of the process, a fountian of unlimited inspiration, and I should not resist it so much. The writing will come, birthed organically and naturally from the furtile ground of experience, not forged from a dislocated idea and mere vocabulary.
So I am going to enjoy the fleeting things. Like taking this hot cup of coffee to my patio, letting the sun warm my skin and watching the trumpet vine bloom.