I’m having a hard time motivating myself to work. The kids are still at home for the next week, and I just can’t get my mind wrapped around a story when they’re banging, screaming, singing, arguing, crying, etc. I’ve finished the galleys for my last book and the manuscript revisions for the next one. I really need to start working on something new, and lining up new freelance, but I am totally deflated.
I know partly it’s about never hearing back from Simon & Schuster about novel #2. But part of it is true exhaustion after an entire summer non-stop with my lovely offspring.
Also, my office looks like a back loader dumped a pile of garbage in it. I’m pretty sure that under the piles of books, papers, catalogs, 1/2 finished knitting projects, balls of yarn, toys, food crumbs, and the layers of dust trapped between each item, there’s a single page with a decent idea for a story. It’s probably similarly buried in my brain, too.