Frustration...

...when writer's block is not the problem.

I realized last night when Todd and I were talking about the stressful week I had last week what the main source of stress was for me. I had been having headaches for three days--and I never get headaches. Well, maybe three or four times a years, which is almost never, in my book. They were non-responsive to drugs of many kinds (all legal, thanks). My allergies have been super annoying, and we decided being stressed may have something to do with that as well.

We knew it had been a crazy week for work. I was working on (and am still not finished) a project that just keeps going and going. I was making fixes from lists I received from co-workers on a daily or more basis. I would have to close the emails and go away for a while to even make my brain work well enough to understand what I needed to do because I was so sick of it.

I had taken on a new volunteer project involving both known and unknown skills and the first deliverable was due on Thursday, and I wasn't given as much lead time as I had requested, so was pushing the envelope on that, too...and not too happy about it.

Todd's aunt died at age 53 in her sleep without any prior warning, and he was struggling with whether to attend her funeral across the country or not. When he decided to go, we both felt good about him going but it left me a "single mom" again for the second week in a row, and I've gotten pretty used to having that guy around. I'm just whining here--it was less than 48 hours. I survived. I even went shopping at Grapevine Mills. It took time away from work and stuff, but it was pure stress relief. And I really needed that picture for my living room. :)

So, what I explained to Todd was that a little over a year ago, I was still having daydreams about writing. I was in school, working all the time, trying to figure out what the heck I wanted to be when I grew up, and then I went to a free day-long writer's conference and everything changed. I understood finally that if I wanted to be a writer, the time was now. I started writing again that night after about a (lemme think) 20-year hiatus.

Now, I want to write all the time. I have no problem with writer's block (yet?). I try to write new ideas down before I forget them because I have other things I'm already working on, and one day hope to get back to those newer ones. I try to balance the time I do have between the various things I'm working on--two manuscripts (Trading Faces and the first manuscript I started on last year that is on hold, but I still open and play with on occasion), blogging (which may lead my friend Britt to believe I need to get a life, but whatever), book reviews I want to start posting on a new site, other short stories and pieces for competitions or maybe even money. But, there just isn't enough of it. Time, that is, not stuff to work on.

So, last week, I was about ready to scream because I had so many things floating around in my head that needed to be put down on my keyboard, but were consigned to float. I have gotten very jealous of that time and lemme tell you, it's not pretty when I have to share it.

We ended up having a really pleasant weekend, including a delicious dinner with my in-laws Friday. I was momentarily stunned when I was talking to my father-in-law about the book they gave me that I posted about a few days back. He asked me if I had read another book on writing and while he was talking about it, he literally choked up and it looked like he even blinked back a few tears. He was that passionate about that book. I had one of those "aha" moments as I recognized in another person what I often feel about this crazy writing obsession.

I would love one day to be able to just take a certain chunk of time (weeks? months? a year?) and do nothing else besides care for my family and write, just to see the result. I have the crazy notion that I could actually do that full-time and not go totally insane. But, it's probably not going to happen any time soon. In the meantime, I just try to guard the smaller chunks of time I'm given and use them wisely, working toward that day. (For instance, spending two hours on a new template for this blog tonight when I could have been writing. Heh.)

I hope this week is just a little calm.

Quote of the day (coming soon to a new blog banner in your area):

Each writer must find out for himself, I imagine, on what strange basis he lives with his own stories.

Eudora Welty, from One Writer’s Beginnings