My Thinkie Thing's Tired

Some days I long for the days when I was in college, home for the summer waitressing. Not to glamorize it, because being the relative low gal on the totem pole of the food service industry is no joke. Long hours on your feet, demanding customers and that icky, food residue smell that saturates your clothes.

But what I enjoyed about being a waitress was how when my shift was over, it was over!

I went home, shed my smelly garb, showered and turned into someone else for the rest of the day - sometimes I was reader girl lounging in my parent's sunroom, other times I was date girl, hanging out with a guy friend at the movies.

Don't you love jobs like that?

I'd simply hang up my server's pad and pen for the day and didn't lose any sleep worrying about whether or not a customer received the right order or fretting if maybe I'd forgotten to refill all the ketchup bottles.

I haven't had a job where I could leave my work at the job in a long time, because though I rarely take work home from my full-time job, writing and promo are always there waiting on me.

In other words, my thinkie thing is operating at full-tilt eighteen hours a day. But that gravelly crunching sound you hear are my gears grinding to a halt.

In January, I already knew what my April and May would bring: travel to RT, a few local library visits, my cheer squad's final Nationals and a trip to Canada with Princess A's French class.

I also knew, that despite some of the activities being purely personal and fun, it would make for a very tiring two months. So I was doing my best to get as much writing done on my fifth, DRB series book, Flipping The Script, as I could.

Good thing I did because I've hit the wall.

Yup, right here at the very start of my busy period, P's thinkie thing has left the building. It's simply incapable of doing anymore deep thinking.

Don't get me wrong. I can handle the lightweight stuff. Hell most of my daily routine I can do with my eyes closed, though I wouldn't recommend doing that while behind the wheel in rush hour traffic. But where writing goes, I'm fooling myself to think it's happening until life has settled down to a more natural rhythm.

Too bad that's another 40 days from now!

You know what the hardest part of slowing down is? Admitting you need to.

I had a good time at last week's RT Convention. Had fun with some cool authors and networked with a good number of booksellers and librarians. Woke up every morning at 6:30, worked out, got a little writing in on Friday and was in bed fast asleep by 11:30 every night.

I know, I'm such a party poop. No faery ball for me.

I honestly didn't feel tired until I woke up Sunday morning. Never underestimate how tiring being "on" is! I've been dragging ever since and the writing has suffered.

I pushed myself to write yesterday, got in two hours. The prose didn't titillate me, but I got it done.

However, today, as I dragged my butt to the post office for stamps (remember the rates go up on May 12th...don't get me started on the postal service and these near annual rate hikes!) trying to see ahead to what the next chapter would tackle, I realized my brain was muddled. So muddled, in fact, that even my desire to write can't help me produce something coherent.

Normally, I'd rather write drivel then write nothing at all. But if you don't re-energize the thinkie thing it goes on strike.

I need to stay away from my characters long enough for them to come looking for me. I love those times when they won't leave me alone, no matter how I try to block them.

Right now, they're seriously MIA.

If you see them, send them my way. I'll be the one poolside sipping a Seven & Seven.