The glaring matter at hand is my goal to complete the first draft of my novel by, well, yesterday. This obviously was another instance where I put my goals to the wayside in favor of less scary and less intense activities.
Let’s face it--writing fiction is difficult. Anyone who says otherwise is either lying or diluted. Throwing your mind, your body, your consciousness into a fictional dimension, completely immersing your thoughts and actions into an abstract reality, is completely disorienting. My experience is such, at least. Maybe it isn’t that daunting for some. Maybe those writers can easily switch their frame of being from fiction to reality with more ease than I can. If so, I applaud and admire them. However, it takes a lot of energy and fortitude for me.
I don’t believe in excuses, only choices. And it was my choice to be lazy with writing in January. I know that specific choice was not helpful for publishing my book. But hey, everyone needs a hiatus now and then. It’s behind me. I got it out of my system. It is time to quit my sightseeing detour and move forward down the path. The finish line is in my sights.