For the past two months I’ve been struggling with motivation, wrestling against distraction as well. My WIP slated for release this December begs for attention, as does the expanded edition of my paranormal fantasy. But can I get myself to sit down and do anything other than email and house searching? No.
Of course, that encourages guilt, which nags at my inspiration and motivation as well–the constant, torturous enemy of a writer. Yes, I have been brainstorming how to begin the December-due WIP, hoping that will draw my mind back from the brink of wherever it has dallied, but I’m still here at the beginning.
I’m certain that the obligations and deadlines don’t help. When I functioned solely on inspiration and which project held the most passion for me at that time, I could finish a draft in but a few weeks, daily churning out at least 30 pages of hand-written–yes, HAND-WRITTEN–story later transcribed/edited into the computer.
Now, in order to actually complete and publish projects, I have setup goals and deadlines. I’m not so certain I have done myself any favors.