It feels like it’s been a pretty busy couple of months as far as writing goes: I took a novel revision course, I attended Potlatch, and I’ve done a fair amount of editing work, both on my novel and on various short stories that are making the rounds collecting rejection letters.
But all in all, I feel like I’ve been spinning my wheels. I’ve done a lot of critiquing of other people’s stories, and a lot of reading and editing of my own, as well as blogging, and tweeting, and planning, but as far as actual word count goes, I pretty much haven’t written anything new since New Year’s. And it’s starting to wear on me, especially since I still have a truckload of editing work to do. Don’t get me wrong, the revision work is still important, but the core of being a writer is that you write stuff, and I haven’t been doing much of that lately.
Luckily, I have a chance: tomorrow I leave for the Rainforest Writers’ Village, a writers’ retreat in which I get to spend five days surrounded by nature, hanging out with writer types, and writing.
I realized the other day that it’s been a while since I’ve just written for fun, without worrying about whether it will sell or what critiquers will think of it or any of countless other considerations that, even though they’re important, can also bog you down.
Starting tomorrow, through Sunday, my goal is to take some of the half-formed short story ideas I’ve collected over the past couple years and just write, for the sheer fun of creating something. It’s too easy for writing to become work; my goal, at the Rainforest retreat, is not to worry about word count or marketing or anything else. It’s to hang out with other writers, have fun, and write.