This is a difficult time of year for me in any year, but especially this year:
Christmas is bearing down on us, with all the responsibilities that entails – gifts, cards, parties, and preparation.
Just beyond the holiday looms a 12 day trip out of the country. Don’t get me wrong – I am really looking forward to it. But it’s coming at the start of the new year, traditionally a very busy time for us.
The Trump cloud hangs over our heads like a pronouncement of doom, and it’s never far from my thoughts.
And in the midst of it all, I am racing toward the finish line to submit a novel by the end of the year, while at the same time writing two serial fiction stories and final proofing my other, already-sold novel.
I am pushing myself too hard. I know this, but I can’t stop. Not yet.
This happens to writers. We over-commit. Things come in all at once instead of in a neat, orderly fashion. And we find our writing /editing / plotting time squeezed by events beyond our control.
We do our best to make it all work anyhow.
In the middle of all of this, I have to remember to take care of myself.
I touched on this a bit last week, in my post “Things That Bring Me Peace and Joy“.
But on a more basic level, I have to remember to stop, close my eyes and breathe now and then. To let myself sleep in one day a week. To eat on a semi-regular basis. And to find time with my husband, Mark.
These things keep me sane. These things keep me alive. Alive is good – dead writers don’t write.
This will all pass. I will get through these next ten days, and things will get better, calmer, quieter.
I just have to manage my resources so my writing, my health and my sanity all end up in one piece.