I've been on vacation from my real job for the past two weeks. Even though I love what I do for a living, it's been a wonderful break. Sleeping in. Getting caught up on some scrapbook organizing. Naps. Grocery shopping during the day. Keeping up with other blogs and actually leaving comments. All those little things in life, that seem so minor, but always slip through the cracks when things get busy.
I even accomplished my goal of having the revisions done on "This Feels Like Home" and getting it back to the editor at TWRP by the end of the year. Well, I finished the revisions on December 31 and sent it off on January 2. But I'll call that a success since the Press was closed for its own winter break until then. It was nice to feel like a writer again, and be able to devote large chunks of time to actually making progress on a story.
Monday I go back to work. I'm fine with that. I feel well-rested and ready to get going again. Part of me is excited. Part of me wishes there could just be more hours in the day. Because I will miss having the time for those little things. Once the work day is done, meals prepared, meetings attended, etc., there's not much time left over.
But it is what it is. At this point I'm not wealthy enough to not work at all and not prolific enough to be a full-time writer. And as I mentioned already, I love my job and wouldn't want to leave it. And as nice as it's been to be away, getting back to a regular schedule will be nice. I just hope I can find some time to devote some time to writing once the busyness kicks in again. Because this vacation also made me remember what I love about being a writer: things coming together and the story coming alive on the pages.
Until next time,