Okay, so it’s probably obvious that I’ve gotten a bit off track lately (if I’m honest, “lately” means “ever since Spring Break”). I’m not exactly sure what to blame it on, though I’ve got plenty of options: extended illness, relatives visiting, visiting relatives, midterm exams, final exams and projects, sick children, spring cleaning, etc., etc., etc. In other words, life.

But whatever culprit I choose to blame, the bottom line is that I have been shamefully lacking in discipline for at least two months now, at least as far as my own writing is concerned. I have done some work, and it’s had some limited payoffs: a grant proposal I wrote won its funding; a short story I submitted received second place (ew, that sounds kind of like a Community Chest card from Monopoly: “You’ve won second prize in a beauty contest! Collect $15.” That’s more than I got for the short story, to be honest…)

I completed another new short story, and I did finish up my final newsletter issue as editor (I did have to write original content for that, too.) And just today, I finally sat back down with my manuscript (yes, the same one I’ve been working on for almost two years) for another round of rewrites to incorporate the last critique I received.

Ugh–rewrites. I know it has to be done, and I acknowledge that each time I’ve done it, I’ve liked the end result better, but I must confess: I am ready to be done with this and move on to the other novel I’m still only five chapters into.

So what’s the holdup here? Life, I guess–there just always seems to be something more pressing going on than my writing, and I’m not sure when–or if–that sort of thing is ever going to stop happening.

How do other people do it? I remember reading in one of my writers’ magazines where one writer’s dog vomited in the foyer and she was so disciplined to “write-no-matter-what” each day that she left the vomit there for the rest of the day and continued to write. I wish I could say I had that kind of discipline and focus, but sometimes I’m just not sure I have that kind of intestinal fortitude to just drop the world off at the door to my office, that kind of “Unless it’s bleeding out, ignore it” approach.

I read something Neil Gaiman said in his blog, something like “anything that keeps me from writing is bad.” There are an awful lot of things that keep me from writing–kids, dogs, husband, friends, house, laundry, errands, cleaning–even me! So if all of those things are keeping me from writing, does that mean they’re all bad things? I mean, I understand what he’s trying to convey, but I’m beginning to wonder if,  in order to be a successful writer, you have to have a little bit of…I don’t know, selfishness? Is that the missing ingredient here? Do I really have to tell the whole world “bleep off” (censored–sometimes my daughter reads this) in order to succeed? What if I can’t?

Ah, well…I guess I’ll just have to go clean up the vomit first and think about that later. At least I got some work done today…