The past month has been an agony of shifted priorities. I couldn’t argue with where the priorities shifted to, but it was life interuptus all over the place.
There’s a short story contest for romance writers with a deadline just over a week away. (Sorry, no access here to the details/links). I really wanted to do this. I’ve never gone in for contests typically, but for some indescribable reason this one was calling to me.
The problem was I don’t write short stories typically.
So there I sat yesterday, with just over a week left to the deadline, trying to force the story out of my head and into the computer. Normally forcing a story seems so very wrong to me. But I understood why I was having the problems – too long since I’d last written (yes, practice makes it easier), the short story format (not used to condensing down that far) and no clear vision (I had character background but no vision of the scene which always makes it easier to write).
It took way longer than it should have. Yes, no self judgment here, really.
But, and here’s the happy place, it got done! And I’m happy with it. It’s not perfect, it needs editing, and whether anyone else will like it who knows (the egomaniac in me says ‘how could they not?’ but the Eeyore part is thinking ‘nobody will like it’ – you did read that with Eeyore voice, yes?).
I got my feet moving on the writing path again and it feels good.