My get-up-and-go got up and went

I have lost the motivation to write.

Every day, I look at my countdown timer and… nothing. I am emotionally spent. I’m still coping with family drama even though everyone else is back at their respective home bases but as this day and age will have it, you’re contactable by email and Facebook and LinkedIn and goodness knows where else. So every day promises an emotional roller coaster. Whee heeeee…

Part of me is panicking slightly that I haven’t even begun to write, and it’s already nearing the end of September which means I’ve just lost a month. And yet, just the thought of sitting down and writing something frivolous at the moment…

I probably need to get down and just do it. But there’s a pile of clothes waiting to be ironed, a stack of DVDs waiting to be watched (including the award-winning Departures that was slipped into my hands just as I was about to board the plane), and a loving, gastro-ridden husband to cuddle.

Most of all, going back to the book feels too much like guilty pleasure, when part of me is still wrapping my head around the fact that she can no longer write her historical novel along with me.