Let’s face it, we’re not all that author who can take a year off to ‘find themselves.’ Or the author who can write and drink themselves into oblivion and publishing infamy at the same time. Hemingway anyone? In fact, for many of us, our true passion in life ends up taking a backseat to little things like bills, rent, food, you know all those insignificant little details.
In a perfect world, we’d all have our dream writing space where we spend hours upon hours each day etching our manuscripts into the ether.
The reality is more like we’re scribbling on napkins on the way to our day jobs, or praying we don’t forget that perfect line which popped into our heads in the shower.
My best laid plans for getting a chapter day came crashing down on Friday and never recovered on the weekend. Three hours of sleep a night will do that to a person. I was too tired to watch the telly, let alone attempt to form a coherent sentence or paragraph.
In the end, I’ve decided to take a deep breath and start again. Maybe I won’t accomplish a chapter a day, but if I manage to write something each day until the end of the month, I’ll be ecstatic.