I’m not sure why, but I’ve been a bit ‘scattered’ this week. I feel like raindrops hitting the pond. All my energy ripples out from the center and is gone.
Maybe it’s an awareness of all the things I need to accomplish over the next few weeks, or perhaps it’s just the end of a long, hard winter. Whatever the culprit, my concentration is non-existent.
Part of the problem may be that I’m physically tired. With the sudden fluctuations in the temperature, I’m not sleeping well. It’s too warm for blankets, and too cold to open a window and let some fresh air in the bedroom.
Tired or not, the break in the weather means it’s time to start walking again. I’ve not been able to get outside on my lunch breaks since Christmas. We had a freakin' blizzard in January, you know. Thirty inches of snow. I wasn't impressed as I peered out the window.
If you’re wondering what that has to do with writing, well, here’s the thing. If I’m going to ever go to writing full-time, I’ve got to have a good exercise regimen firmly established. I refuse to channel Jabba the Hut as I sit at my keyboard. A better me means better writing, or so I firmly believe.
So what’s up with the writing this week? I’m scattered. My alter ego is coming up on the end of a story, and the floodgate of new ideas has opened. Pick one. Pick one. PICK ONE! It’s always difficult to narrow it down to the most complete idea and forge ahead. The sooner I do, the sooner I can get back to another project. Right?