It's the last hour of 2013 and I'm determined to get a blog post up for the month of December. I haven't posted in a very long time.
I can't call what I took a hiatus, since I've been working pretty hard. But I haven't been doing the work I love; I haven't been writing. "Not writing" takes a toll and what happens next is something I'm sure a lot of writers experience; the entropy takes on a life of its own and then I realize, "Wow. I haven't been willing to stick up for myself. Every person, place and thing that has sidled up into my peripheral vision has been given a warm welcome into my full attention. C'mon in to the inner circle; I can't think of anything to write, anyways. Sure, I'll watch A Christmas Story with you ... again. Sure, we can go shopping ... again. Sure, I'll help you wrap that ... too."
And it's all me. I slowed down at 20,000 words with NaNoWriMo and then ... stopped.
It's 11:26 p.m. on December 31st. This post is the last of 2013, for soon my husband and I will tune into the shenanigans at Times Square and watch "The Ball" fall. We'll clink our glasses and give each other a smooch. We'll sing Auld Lang Syne and then he'll head off to bed (because he moved wood all day in advance of a possible Nor'easter in 48 hours, and he is barely keeping himself awake to usher in the New Year.)
And I will sit back down here at the keyboard, because the first thing I want to do in 2014 is write.
