I think I had too much fun in Melbourne last week. I'm finding it really hard to settle back into real life and even harder to settle back into my writing life. Usually after even a few days away, I'm champing at the bit to get back to writing, but this time, I'm just not...
Maybe it's because I'm not actually working on anything. I'm going to start revising Stumped (Ozzy) soon, but I'm not quite ready to start yet. I need to start querying Sidewalks, but for some reason I'm reluctant to do it. Maybe because I love this book so much. I've put so much of my life into it. I just know the rejections are going to sting.
And I haven't even looked back at Paradise, my NaNo novel that I left near its climax to write Stumped. And I should do that. But I think the amount of revision its going to need is intimidating me.
So I'm beta reading for a friend, and critiquing for others. I guess it all helps, but I'd love to get that rush of excitement that sends me racing to my computer as soon as the kids go to bed again. And leap out of bed at 5.30am, eager to dive back into another world I've created.
Have you ever felt this way?