The blogging side of my writing seesaw came crashing down again this week and I haven’t posted since last Tuesday. Of course this means the writing side of the seesaw went rocketing into the sky and I was really productive.
Or at least it should mean that.
I’ve certainly put a lot of time into writing this week – I’ve been editing my picture books based on the feedback I received from the manuscript review service. I’ve spent hours taking apart verses and putting them back together again, trying to work out if there was a better rhyme for this or a more succinct way of phrasing that. I’ve had so many rhymes spinning round in my head that they’ve invaded my dreams, chattering frantically to get my attention, tugging at my sleeping brain until they’ve forced it into wakefulness.
And yet I still don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere. I had a horrible feeling earlier today that all I was doing was ruining what I’d written, that I was cutting too much out and changing it too much. I’m sure this can’t actually be true. At least I hope it isn’t true but I’m definitley starting to doubt myself.
‘Take a break from it’ I thought. But my writing time is so limited and the summer holidays – which herald no child-free time – are racing towards us so I feel the need to write while I can. Not tonight though; enough’s enough. It’s 8.45 on a Monday evening and once I’ve finished this post I’m having a glass of wine and doing something else. I don’t care what it is, as long as there are no aliens or cake or magical adventures. And absolutely no rhymes.
Here endeth the post (I’m off for some toast).