First, let me apologize for my lack of posts in the last month. Between my birthday, planning for my 10 year high school reunion, and other personal issues the time I had open for blogging was...very small. Let's just go with that as one of the contributing factors, the lack of time. I also work full time, and try to spend time with my friends and family. Time is something I definitely don't have enough of, which makes me annoyed when I hit a wall.
I was thisclose to finishing up Shades of Desire. I could taste victory. Jude and the gang could taste it. Seriously. So effing close. And yet, it was not to be. I managed to bang out another five pages or so. And that was it. I can almost see every little detail of how the end of the book goes. I just can't get there. And I don't know why, which is even more annoying.
As for New Moon Rising, yep, I've hit a wall there, too. The difference is that I know what's causing the wall, and how I have to get over/around/under it. The scene in question involves a funeral home, and the next chapter will involve a funeral. It's kind of depressing that I should be used to people dying, but the church I grew up in had an abnormally large senior population, so all us youngsters got kind of used to the whole dying thing. However, my grandmother passed away in December. She was one of the most important people in life, still is, truth be told, and even seven months later I get choked up, and all sorts of emotional things. Since I tend to write in public, it would be a little awkward to explain the crying. So I just sort of stepped back and away instead of just plowing through it. Yes, I can be a wuss sometimes.
However, this is a new month. About 99% of the emotional crap of the last month is gone. The reunion is in a week, which means I'll have five blessed days of non-work. And if I cross my fingers, I'll have a new job altogether within the next six months. That 1% of emotional crap remaining? There's a good possibility it'll always be there. But I can live with that, because I have a helluva lot more good stuff in my life, as evidenced by the percentage.
So maybe sometimes what we see as a writing wall is actually a life wall. Our art is who we are, it helps define a major portion of our identity. It makes all the sense in the world, at least to me, that our subconscious would do its best to set us back on the right path, and that for those of us who write, it chooses that outlet to do so. And is it annoying? Yes, especially if you want to use writing as an escape. But it's a lot less annoying than winding up in Scranton when you were trying to get to Trenton and having to backtrack to Atlanta on the map of life.