I'm back home, sitting at the Board Game Cafe, trying to figure out what I want to write.
Anything I start will be interrupted in two days when I get my dev edit for Whose Hearts are Mountains back, so I can work on fixing it. On the other hand, I feel weird not writing. Not writing poetry, not writing short stories, not writing novels, not editing.
I'm afraid that if I take a break, I won't go back. But I have taken a break over finals week and beyond to Christmas. And inspiration has taken a vacation as well.
If I felt like starting a novel, I could turn the jam-packed short story Hands into a novel, if I could get some insight as to what Warsaw, Poland was like fifteen years ago. Boy, did I paint myself into a corner there.
My blog counts as writing, though, as I intended it to. Warmups to something bigger for the day. Let's see what that will be.
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