Tied Up In Knots Over Not Writing

Shiny objects, wooly objects, cat videos, anything works to take my eye off the prize.

I set a goal to write an article a day, finish editing my novel, and publish it before the end of the year. And to top it all of, I’d complete my client’s project ahead of time.

So what am I doing at 1:22 pm on a work day? Knitting. WTF?

Is starting a new sweater going to put money in the bank? Is it going to help me reach the big number on Medium? Will it lure new editing clients into my stable so I don’t have to count pennies at the end of the month if one of them sells so many books she retires on a yacht in Monte Carlo?

I could blame it on a holiday hangover, where the lure of the new is calling to me to make new plans, chart a new course. Fine, I’m down with that. But a bobble sweater for my daughter? She’ll wear it once, and her cats will commandeer it to plop their bums on the nice, soft wool.

My excuse is that I’ve had my nose to the grindstone for so long, I need a break. Okay, so what was yesterday? And the day after Christmas, when I was so hungover from carbs and cooking that I could barely drag myself out of bed to make coffee with my nice shiny new coffee filter.

Good for me that I didn’t ditch the rest of the year and let my middle-aged spread spill over into my dotage. I wrote until I kicked 2019 to the curb. But upon starting the new decade, I glued myself to my favorite chair and knitted and purled to my heart’s content for a day. And then another, and, fill in the blanks.

I can’t say I’m suffering the end-of-year blues, so is it a new decade neurosis? Has my creative spark sputtered and died? I have three half-written articles that won’t take off no matter how many times I head them down the runway.

They seem overwritten, or underwritten, or half-baked. Have I lost my mojo? My worst fear is that old age will catch up with me, and I will have used up my last creative neuron. All I’ll have left is my ability to k1, p2, and hope I don’t drop too many stitches before I reach the end of the row. Metaphorically speaking.

Yes, I know my knitting can get a little obsessive. I’ve had weaver’s hip to prove it. You know, sitting on a hard chair for hours at a time until I gave myself bursitis. Here we go again.

Maybe this is what I get for boasting about my discipline. My vaunted writing practice, my daily word count. I shove it in the faces of all those poor scribes struggling for an idea, even a fragment of a sentence when they sit down at their keyboard. As if I don’t remember those days, when insecurity had me by the short hairs, and I questioned every word, comma and apostrophe I dared put on the page.

See where arrogance gets you, my muse is saying. It’s serving up a big dose of writing block.

Six days into 2020, and only one article published. How long will this losing streak last?

Hmm. Ask me when I finish this ball of yarn. Then I’ll get back to work.

Yeah, I know that’s what I said yesterday.

But today I mean it.

Promise.

I’m an editor and writer on Medium with Top Writer status in several categories. I’m also an editor for the publication, Rogues Gallery. I’ve published 55 titles on Amazon and edit for private clients. If you’d like to hire me as your editor for fiction, non-fiction, or business writing, please contact me here. If you’d like to read more of my work on Medium, click here to sign up for my newsletter. I’ll make sure you don’t miss a word. Thank you for reading.