Family stuff is taken care of, now I can get back to the 'it's all about me' blog.
And I have to say, I've finally worked out why I've felt under a malaise. You know the feeling? I don' wanna write, I don' wanna edit, I don' wanna do nuthin' but veg in front of the teev.
It's been a month since I've read a good book. Oh, I've looked at a few, read a number of chapters of books I know are good, but I've been distracted. By what? I have no idea. It's been like I'm just not in the mood for those books. And I really hate that, because it taints the reading when I am in the mood. I'm not going to name names - that would be unfair.
Still, it's affecting my writing; not ideas, they're still roaming around like lost sheep searching for home, but the actual sitting down and writing part. I get a good deal of motivation from reading, as well as the entertainment and research value. A good book will put you in the mood; a great book will have you reaching for the pen and any scrap of paper.
I guess it's part of being a writer to sit down and do the job, even when you don't want to. And I've had this before, I just haven't 'fessed up to it. Having to write the next instalment will help; once I make a promise, I stick to it. It's why I rarely make promises.
I'm going off to read a few favourites: Elizabeth Moon and Tanya Huff. I think that's all the time I'll have before Wednesday's deadline.