Over the past year, I have written:
- Four short stories of 10,000 words each
- Four Smitten books of 70,000 words each
- Another Smitten, of 90,000 words
- Two adults books of 90,000 words
- Another young adult book of 60,000 words.
This list doesn’t include rewrites and edits.
The total is 650,000 words, almost to the day.
Is it any wonder I am exhausted?
I literally do not have any more words left. Even writing this blog is an exercise.
I am now officially taking some time off. Nothing to write and I won’t write again until the ideas bubble forth, tugging at my sleeve to be heard, like a small child.
I have one small project that requires some tweaking but there is no deadline on this, so I am marinating, dwelling, fallowing, hibernating.
I’m all out of ideas and I need to refill the well.
This weekend, I start my new life in my new magical house, and I am planning on looking after myself, unpacking and playing house, and recharging through reading and walking.
Yesterday I read this poem. I think it should be more widely known. It is almost like a prayer.
This is the sort of thing I’m doing; reading poetry and wandering about my house with a roll of packing tape and some bubble wrap.
I’m not making any sense. I’ll come back to you when I’m sane again.