Sometimes, during an extended writing break, I feel like Sherlock Holmes. I’m smart, handsome, a legend in bed. But I’m also keenly aware of the dark side of Holmes’s existence. “My mind rebels at stagnation,” he said to Watson in The Sign of Four. With nothing to do but sit and wait, I’m restless, edgy, walking the precipice of sanity. Hell, I have gone off the deep end, and was lucky enough to have a safety line to pull me back.
I’ve still got three weeks to go until the end of my break and a return to Ain’t No Grave. Until then, I’m trying to keep busy as much as I can reading, thinking about this other alien story that I had in my head earlier this week. It’s a mental struggle that I have to tackle a day at time.
If I’m feeling desperate enough, I might cut down my break time. I started the second draft of Ain’t No Grave well over a month ago, and haven’t touched it in about three weeks. I already know that I’ll have to discard it and start over. For all intents and purposes, I really have taken a month off from the book. Maybe it is time to get back to work.