The Blues: Nullae Rationales

My writing projects are proceeding jerkily these days, mostly in fifteen- to twenty-minute intervals over many days and weeks. Last month, I got to sit down for a whole uninterrupted forty-five minutes -- but then I didn’t write for three days.

Part of the problem is the new school year. It always takes me awhile to adjust mentally (and biologically) to the new schedule, and I’m finding it hard to squeeze my writing time in and among the classes and after-school meetings and clubs. My volunteer work with the Amoskeag Journal (which, incidentally, is looking for submissions) and Big Brothers/Big Sisters is also eating up time, along with my doctor’s firm suggestion that I exercise more.  (I turn 41 in a couple of weeks and can no longer rely on my metabolism to keep me lean and low of blood pressure.) Oh, and I had to dismantle my writing room last June to make way for home renovations, and I’ve got at least another three weeks work ahead before I can build myself a new desk and put butt to well-worn chair.

The result is three unfinished short stories, a handful of blog posts, and an outline for a novel I’m supposed to turn in come March. In short, friends, I’ve become a statistic – a non-finisher, a would-be, someone who talks but fails to do. I’ve even been forced to give up playing the guitar, which I did not well but therapeutically.

I suck.

It makes me grumpy and, in the words of Moff Tiaan Jerjerrod, we shall redouble our efforts.