I went to bed at two last night hoping the kid would sleep in like he did yesterday. Alas, he woke up minutes after I did and crawled into bed with me saying he wasn’t tired at all, which means only one thing. No writing for me.
I’d started working on my upcoming novel yesterday, starting over with a new draft because the first version that’s currently at 13K words, just didn’t “hit it,” at least for me. It has one good chapter and it’s not even heroine’s. It’s the hero’s best friend. Apparently, he stole the best lines in the novel so far and he’ll probably get his own story one day. But for now, it’s Jordan and Addison. They need to get it on but I have to start over and set aside all but the best friend’s chapter. It all had to do with the conflict: I had NONE. The hero and heroine get along from the moment they meet. There is no push and pull, nothing to say, Houston, we have a problem. I was still hung up on the picture of the guy and the baby and nothing – nothing – was making me give them any difficulties. Outside forces? Yes, but internal conflict? It just wasn’t there, or if it was, it was coming out preachy.
But my eureka moment of how to fix my story’s problem came to me while I was giving my client a massage yesterday. I usually get my best ideas while I’m giving them – go figure. It’s probably why I haven’t completely retired from it. I not only enjoy the clients I’ve chosen to keep seeing, I also come up with the best scenes and the best character arcs. Maybe it’s that flow of energy. Or maybe it’s because when I’m giving a massage, I’m not thinking about book sales or advertising (I know, I know, I should take a vacation or have a drink or something, but that’s for another time). I learned to actually take myself and my ego out of the session and just let things happen. My clients feel better when they’re done and I feel the same way, too, both from giving and from the influx of whatever ideas come to me.
So last night would have been the time to write it all down but I only got as far as 400 words or so before I had to go to bed. And this morning when the kiddo announced he wasn’t tired at 7:30 in the morning and proceeded to convert the entire house into his playroom, writing is not going to happen. I did, however, get to schedule some promotions for my books. It’s the one thing Facebook advertising had freed me from doing – organizing and scheduling my book promotions on a calendar. In the absence of FB ads which had put everything on auto-pilot for me, it’s back to the old day planner and writing everything down on two calendars AND a notification on my calendar.
I also got to tidy up the drawers and now have three bags of clothes to drop off at the thrift store. That will be for tomorrow. Then it will be off to the Museum of Natural History on Thursday and maybe somewhere cool for Friday where forecasted temps are up at 118 degrees in some areas.
I’m still hoping to get some writing in tonight though. I have a preorder to fulfill in September and I don’t want to be late anymore. I don’t write as a hobby. It’s a career for me. It’s my nine to five, only it’s more than nine to five. When writing is your bread and butter, you work your ass off while you’re also having fun – even if I don’t look like I’m having fun or I bitch about not having fun. I am.
Although a fully paid trip with expenses to London would probably be more fun…