It happens to us all.
Every now and then you just go a tiny, wee-bit batshit about how much there is to do.
…there are synopses to be written, your own website hasn’t been updated since the turn of some prior century, your social media followers haven’t heard from you in so long they’ve divided into two camps: Alien Abduction vs. Fallen Into a Narrow Crevasse and Gnawing Her Own Arm Off…
…there are conferences and workshops and networking events to attend, that library wants you to be a guest speaker to some kids (as if they care), research for a piece you’ve been putting off, a steadily-expanding list of writing articles you’ve been meaning to read…
Oh yeah… the writing.
Actual ass-in-chair bleed-onto-your-keyboard creative time.
You’re only one person. With so many hours in a day. With only so many of those hours that the dog isn’t whining to go out, or the tummy rumbling to put food in, or the plumbing springing a sudden and spectacular leak.
For me it’s about every six months. I flat out lose it. I melt down for a day. You can set your watch to it.
But I always come out of it.