Hitting the Wall

DAY 62

Word Count: 39,063

Sentence of the Day: On deck, a few hands stowed ropes and tightened fittings, and on the gangplank, a leather-cheeked sailor descended--so raw-boned and angular, it hurt to look at him.

The half-way blues are clubbing me upside the head a tad early. 45k is technically when I should hit the wall. I'm only at 39k, but writing isn't math.

Thank God.

Since it's my youngest's spring break, I had all these grandiose plans to forge ahead this week, wear out the ol' keyboard with frantic typing and such. Yeah. That didn't happen.

Why is it that a writer is most productive when there's the least amount of time to write? Is that some maxim of Murphy's Law that I didn't study? Because that would be science, and writing isn't science.

Thank God, again.

So after pondering the situation, it dawned on me, not a brilliantly orange thought, like when the sun peeks over a slate-blue ocean, but more of a slow realization, like how an overcast sky changes from charcoal to iron to pewter gray.

Even in the midst of a non-productive slew of writing days,

I can and should thank God.

Why? Because He's the one who gave me those days in the first place.

Try it yourself. Thanking God does wonders for perspective. Removing your eyeballs from yourself, redirecting your focus onto the Creator of creativity, has a freakish way of regenerating inspiration to write.