People, I'm going through withdrawals.
And no, I'm not twitching or scratching myself. Yet. I have a feeling that if I don't find a cure for this here soon, I may start.
I've been real busy lately. We're talking perhaps the busiest I've been. School's been occupying a lot of my, in between reading books for AP Language (which I've actually enjoyed), and keeping up with all my other assignments (Chemistry, I hate you), my school life has never been this hectic. On top of that I've been getting more hours at work, which is good, but when you add that with the time-consuming schoolwork, my wriitng often gets pushed out the backdoor. And it's really upsetting me.
I used to have the opportunity to write every day. Whether it be a short amount of time or long, I still had time. But now my time has been eaten up by everything else I have to do that I've gone for as long as over a week without writing. And my writing is paying the price.
I know one of the cardinal rules for being a serious writer is making time to write. While I've had time to write, it's often in the form of essays or "short" answers for school assignments. My stories, however, the writing that I love and want people to read, that is the writing that I've been unable to get to on a daily basis. Recently I started writing a new book, and over a month in to writing it and I've only gotten about 40 pages written.
Please don't hurt me. I know it's bad.
Because of all the other things I've needed to do, I can't get to my writing, which resulting in me losing touch with my characters and the world they live in. This is an almost shattering thing for me because I need to write this story. I have it all in my head, and I know it's something special to me, which is an automatic indication that it needs to be written. But as much as I try, I can't get it done.
I want this to be my job. I want to be spending my time writing, and talking with other writer people about writing. I've wanted this for so long that I know by now that I won't give up. It's just a matter of me being patient and trying my best to get time in for writing. Things would just be so much easier if this were my job, though. Because I love it.
I'm hoping things will turn around soon. I don't want to start itching. I would love for the opportunity to have writing what I do for a living, like so many people who have the amazing opportunity to do so. For those of you who are in that awesome position, don't take it for granted. Please.
There are a few books on my bookshelf that have been sitting there for weeks, waiting to be read while I sit beneath them, doing homework and coming home from work. Winifred, the name I gave my laptop, sits under my bed, waiting to be cracked open again. Whichever one I get to first, I hope somewhere within them there is my cure.
