Wrong focus

For the last few weeks I've been doing a lot of editing. The only "writing" I've done has been the bits and pieces needed for the editing.

I've been critiquing, doing evaluations. Beta reading. Working on my website, working on cover art. Doing research, and a lot of chatting with other writers.

All of these things are important, but it's the writing that I've always loved. The writing is the whole purpose behind quitting my job in the first place. I know a lot of writers have "dry spells," but honestly I've never felt this way.

Every time I've finished a project I've been ready and eager to jump right into another one. Every few months I take a week or so to recharge, and I thought at first that this might be an extended "recharge" period. But I look at my bookshelf and I don't want to read anything there. I look at my movies (or think about movies I've never seen) and find no interest.

I started looking through some of my old stories last night, and my interest was piqued. I want to read them. Not edit, not write, not listen to--read. I want to be able to open up It Takes a Village or No One Argues with the Mountain or Courier and just read it for fun. I've forgotten what it's like to read a book for fun.

I've been so busy "preparing for publication" that I forgot how much I love both reading and writing. Just to sit down and write something without analyzing it and trying to figure out how hypothetical readers will see it. Just to sit down and read something, to find my mind engaged in a new world or a new magic system.

I'd forgotten what that feels like.

So today I'll go to the library and see if I can find something new, something I haven't read before. Historically trying to find something I like at the library has been a waste of time. The library is both desert and jungle, the good stuff hidden behind copious amounts of drek. I'll get out of the house for more than errands and maybe visit friends I haven't seen in months. I'm getting excited for it.

And I'll read.