Monday, November 5, 2018


I’ve been writing non-stop for twelve years. Wow, just looking at that sentence makes we realize how long I’ve actually been at this endeavor. Every day for twelve years. That’s a long time. There have been good days and bad days, like any job. And it’s become a job. I get paid for my work—every time you buy my book, I get money. The more people who buy my books, the more money I get. That’s why reviews are so important, because they help spread the word. But that’s a topic for another blog.

This blog is about burnout. I’ve got it big time. I’ve always written because of the voices in my head. Non-writers think I’m crazy. Writers understand. There are characters whose voices I hear speaking to me. Well, not to me, but I do hear them speaking. Sometimes I even hear their accents. And those voices are what lead me to write. When I write down what they say, they leave my head, enabling me to create stories in which they can bloom.

Except for the past month my head has been quiet. No one is talking. As someone who values quiet, this could be considered a good thing. Except it makes it hard to fall asleep at night, and when I’m awake, I feel like I should be writing. My critique partners suggested I take some time off.

The timing actually works well, since I need to promote my new book that comes out later this month. So most of my time is devoted to that. In my downtime, I’m trying to plan a new series, actually plan it, instead of just going by whatever hits me at the time. Even though I’m not a planner, I’m hoping that by fleshing out some ideas, I’ll be inspired all over again to sit in front of a blank screen and fill it with words.