My writer finally comes through the door to her writing office. I have to make a show of checking my non-existant watch. “Where the hell have you been, love?”
She grimaces at me. “I know, I know. I worked at the library two nights this week, and I’ve still been writing every night, so …” She trails off into a grumble.
“Watch your language. You’ve been distracted.”
“Duh!” Julie grabs her laptop and plants herself in one of the recliners in the corner. More grumbling. She’s wearing her NaNoWriMo hoodie, but it doesn’t seem to be helping much.
“Would you like to talk about it, love?”
“I have to write.”
She’s so grumbly I can feel the creative energy being repelled. Sigh. I settle next to her in the other recliner. “Tell me.”
“You already know. Why should I tell you?”
“Because by actually saying it you will feel better. And yes, I can feel the energy shift. When is your daughter supposed to be home?”
“Soon.” She chews on a knuckle. “I didn’t get as much writing done last weekend as I had wanted to. I worked at the library and tried to write. I did write when it was slow, just not enough. I even wrote every day this week, and I still didn’t hit my word count. And I’m not going to get that short story done to submit for the anthology.”
“You could, love. That’s the one with a hard deadline. Your draft doesn’t have a hard deadline.”
She looks over at me, her face flushed. Frustration, I think. “I don’t know how to write it. I’m stuck. You know what? I think I need to write something different. I want to work on the Spring Brook story. Or I could revise my police procedural. Or maybe work on that urban fantasy you keep pinging me with.”
The urban fantasy would be a nice change of pace, but now is not the time. “Tell me what’s distracting you, love.”
She bounces her head back against the recliner. “Everything. Do you realize Thanksgiving is next week already? And my daughter is home this weekend, then coming home for the Thanksgiving holiday two days after she goes back. The energy is,” she rubs at her eyes, “different. Harder to work with. And I have housework to do, even if it is the bare minimum. And I have to get my new computer set up. And damn it, I need to be writing.”
“Yes, you do. So what do you need to do to get there?”
“Stop talking and start writing. Go finish my blog post. Please.”
I try another test. Most of the creative energy is still not sinking in. Bloody hell. “I’ll call Wander in. Maybe she can help.” There’s something about dragons that helps my writer open up.
“Fine. Whatever. Let me try to hit my word count tonight, alright?” She glances at the clock on the desk and groans.
I lean over to her. “Relax, love.”
“Easy for you to say. Finish the post, then help me with this transition.”
And I expect that’s how the weekend will go. If I can get her to hit double her word goal over the next two days, she’ll be on track to hit 50k by the 30th.
Wish me luck!