For most of the past decade, I haven’t written much, between running Upper Rubber Boot (which I put on hiatus in 2020 for that reason) and the pandemic (I work in a hospital and it turns out hospitals get quite busy when everybody is sick, who knew). In August 2021, I started a new, even more demanding job than my previous, which was already much more demanding than the “work a day job and write in your spare time” model of writing really requires.
I’ll be going back to getting up at 5 am to write before work (I put that on pause when I got a lingering case of covid). For Christmas, Alan and Diana revealed they’re giving me a one-week writing retreat (probably this one; I am going to start working on the application tomorrow), which will be helpful, since what I need is simply more time.
All that said, I got about 20,000 words of my novel written, which isn’t nothing. It’s about women of a certain age defeating fascism, but is also about processing grief and fostering connection. I think they’re good words, too, not a shitty first draft. I have a lot of love for this project and am determined to finish it in 2023.