Maybe I haven't missed the writing because I really needed a break. I spent fall and spring working very hard at several things, some of which were successful and some of which were not. I've certainly gotten a lot of desperately-needed spring cleaning done because of not-writing. And I've watched a frightening number of DVDs--45 episodes of Monty Python's Flying Circus, plus the episode they did for German/Austrian television. Last night it was three episodes of Due South. I have plenty left to catch up on.
Maybe I'm waiting. My proposal is supposed to be winging its way to editors, and if someone wants to buy it, then I will have to leap into action and pound out another 80,000 words about the Duchess and the Stableboy. It would be harder to do that if I'd already enmeshed myself in a new project. Still, this waiting feels lazy. I always feel lazy when I'm not writing. Every single time.
When will the urge return? Do I want to force it? Writing isn't my living, so I don't have to. When I force myself too much, it turns out bad. Maybe I should just wait some more.