Four years ago, I cleared out my everyday schedule to do nothing but write. It has made me incredibly productive.
But when I'm not writing, going on two months, life starts feeling oddly empty. Writing non-fiction is more like a job, a task. It isn't a deep dive into an alternate world.
I miss my alternate world of the moment. Much like when I don't read for long periods of time. A book is always an ongoing place that is alongside my waking moments.
I took a break on purpose. I've already filled next year with books from publishers, and could easily self-publish for a couple years after that. So I'm way ahead of the game. I decided it wouldn't hurt to take a break and assess what I want to do.
I thought it was possible I might want to try something different, try for the mainstream.
Instead, I came to the opposite conclusion. I like my little niche and I think I'll stick to it. I like genre. I like adding a little supernatural or SF element to most of my stories. "Snaked" came out well, and it has no supernatural or SF, but it certainly has the 'fantastic.'
Anyway, I missed my walk yesterday out of pure laziness (well, actually, because my normal time fell between me recording TV shows, which is somehow worse..)
Told Linda this morning that I'm taking a walk today no matter what; neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow would stop me from my appointed walk. I don't care if I run into packs of cougars (the animal kind...well, either kind) or break both legs or...I don't care, I'm going walking.
I'm dedicating October to finishing The Small Business Survival Handbook. But come November 1, I'm writing fiction no matter what.
3 hours ago