My word count was low this week, as was my progress. I had planned to finish a read-through of Hell to Pay before passing it off to my critique partner. I had not planned on getting called into work a few extra shifts, two sleepless nights and a thorough mutiny of my brain cells.
Not much got done. But as I was walking out to my car last night after working twelve hours, my first thought was, "I can't wait to get home and write. Write? Who am I kidding?" I was hard-pressed to say my own name at that point. I'm not twenty years old any more. Those double shifts take more out of me than I'd like to admit.
Next week won't be much better. I'm hoping I get more sleep so that I can at least tolerate the work hours better. I have been carting a small notebook around with me so that any random writing thoughts get recorded. There's absolutely no way I'm trusting my memory at this point.
I don't even have the energy to drive past the Brooding Tree to get back into setting.
What do you do to keep the writing in the forefront when life tries to push it out of the way?