Writer's Muck

Today was just warm enough to melt some of the snow we got over the weekend. The unappealing result made me prefer to stay inside.

Muck.

As the seasons struggle to change, March is rarely anyone's favorite month. People are sick of the same old snow, bored and restless. The same is true for my writing this month.

Review books pile up. I love books. I love receiving stacks of them free in exchange for my reviews. But as my reviews leave the 100 mark in the dust, it's a constant battle to keep them fresh. I don't want to repeat myself.

My novel has stalled in the revision process. I just rewrote the ending, but length requirements are calling for another subplot. That involves more character development, research, and plotting before I can increase my word count.

My short story circles aimlessly. The characters are great, but I have no idea how I want the climax of the story to play out - nor whether the tale will remain a short story in the end.

I ache for the infusion of fresh ideas and the long typing sprees that follow them, but I need to get some of this wrapped up first. New ideas refuse to take off when I have too much baggage.

So I'm slowly plowing through this season of slush and mud - not writer's block, but nearly as disheartening - as I wait for spring. I know I'll get through this sometime, and the warmth and freedom of creativity will return. I'll wonder what was so hard.

In the meantime, perhaps I should get some boots.