I woke to thunder this morning. Not an angry, storm, but a lazy one, heavy rain falling straight down, sky murmuring overhead. Sleeping weather. Reading weather. Novel weather. I slipped out of a vivid dream that went hazy immediately, but one whose echoes lingered.
It's funny - I always tell myself I'm going to take a break after I finish a book. But by the time the finish comes, I'm filled again with that hollow sense that I can never do enough, and that I'm losing time, and that maybe this time, readers won't wait for the next tale. So maybe that's why I was struck by the urge to write this morning. It's easy, in the weeks before a book releases, to lose touch with the part of yourself that thrives on the art of it all. I miss it. I want to be creative again.
I'm going to take a little breather, though, even if I already feel the narcotic pull of writing. I need to read. I need to calm my thoughts. I need to catch up on things I've missed during this mad deadline dash. I want to blog more; I want to be back in the loop - and keep you guys in the loop better! I've got my launch party and a speaking engagement coming up, and I want to be more mentally present, not so stuck in bookland.
You know...before I get stuck there again.