It’s a warm late summer night on the cusp of the fall season, and I for one will not be sad to see summer go.
May-July was busy. Heck, every month was busy. But I put my nose to the grindstone and burned through a revise and resubmit on a project very dear to my soul. I had a self-imposed deadline and was determined to beat it. Now no one was pushing me to work so hard except me.
But once I got started, I went into that wonderful writing zone and when you’re in it, you just have to ride the wave like a surfer. And once it was done, I breathed a sigh of relief and put my faith in the Universe.
And it was a good thing I hit THE END on that project because the minute I did, the Universe decided to unleash a proverbial horse potato storm over my head.
Now the summer wasn’t all bad. There were a few (a few) bright spots.
LITTLE LENA AND THE BIG TABLE, my debut picture book, got great reviews on Amazon. I did a couple of author events and didn’t embarrass myself too much.
I had a couple of really good hair days.
I have no cavities.
Succession on HBO came back, the best show on TV. As much as the final season of GOT rankled, Succession exceeded my expectations. Each week the writing and acting is superb. Brian Cox is KILLING it as Logan Roy and should win every Emmy in the book.
And after that…uh…
There were some weeks I thought it couldn’t get any worse, and it did, like a bad horror movie.
But even with all the drama and mayhem and chaos, I wrote.
Exhausted, some days I thought, why bother? No one cares if I write. If I stopped writing tomorrow, would the world as we know it cease to exist?
Jeopardy bonus answer: probably not.
But I’d know. And it’s not me. Writing is in my DNA. Even when I’m not writing, I’m writing. I have too many ideas taking up precious real estate in my head.
So though some days were a tough slog, I wrote, even if it was just a sentence or to jot down an idea.
I know it’s a cliche, but if you want to write, I mean, really and truly want to write, you’ll find a way.
Even in a Summer of Hell.