Monday, September 14th, 2009 • 2 Comments on Coasting
It’s no secret I haven’t been writing much the past few months. Pregnancy seems to suck up my creativity in ways I didn’t expect. Though I’m relieved to know I’m not the only pregnant writer to feel this way, it is still frustrating. Oh hell, might as well be honest: sometimes it’s frustrating, sometimes it’s scary and sometimes I don’t really give a damn because my plate is filled to capacity and spilling over on the floor and I’m too tired (and large) to bend down and pick up the mess.
And still, there is this: I am a writer and I should be writing right up until those labor pains hit. That is what I tell myself when I care enough to count the days/weeks since I last wrote something more than a blog post or e-mail. Then I write at a frenzied pace, afraid that if I pause to go to the bathroom (which I do with the same frequency these days that celebrities and congressmen make jackasses of themselves), the words will disappear. Right now I care—I care a lot. Ask me again at 3 AM, when I’m exhausted and the baby is kicking like he wants out now and the heartburn is eating away at my esophagus. Then, I might not care so much.
Here’s the other thing, though: writing is a delayed process. You write, you edit, you submit, you wait (and wait and wait), you get accepted (or rejected, which halts the process sooner), you wait, you get contracts/edits/updates, you wait, your story gets published. Long process, sometimes. So over the last few weeks I’ve been reaping the rewards of writing that was done months or even a year ago. Acceptances are trickling in and long awaited books are being released. I’ve even gotten a couple of requests for reprints, which is always lovely but also lulls me into thinking I’ve been working—writing—when I haven’t.
I am, of course, busy editing a book right now. I’m in the crunch stage of finalizing selections and putting the manuscript together and writing my introduction (and—hopefully very soon—writing my own story for the collection) and that will keep me busy for the next couple of weeks. Then it’s back to waiting on that project while I contemplate what I have left in me that hasn’t been squeezed out of the way by the munchkin I’m growing. I suspect there will be little—if any—writing in November, December, January… I’m afraid to think too much beyond that. So, I have October to buckle down (ha!) and write my little heart out while I am child free and have some energy. (And I do mean some.) When I’m not buying cute little baby outfits and cases of diapers, of course.
Will I? Who knows? Right now, I have good intentions. Ask me again at 3 AM.