If you were expecting this to be a craft blog on how to keep motivated when writing after 58 books, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you because when it comes to motivation, I have, it seems, completely lost it for the 59th.
I was inclined to blame this on a lack of inspiration at first, but I think feeling unmotivated is different. I’ve got an idea, I’ve got a plot. I’ve got characters with goals and motivations. I’d like to write this story, I really would, but somehow I just can’t quite bring myself to do it.
Lack of motivation isn’t the same as block, which is a terrible thing. Block is when you sit at your computer, staring at the screen, fingers frozen to the keyboard, feeling sick as a great tangle of words knots and lodges immovably in the pit of your stomach … ugh, I feel quite nauseous just thinking about it!
Lack of motivation is less dramatic, but more insidious. Now I can’t even get myself to sit at my computer at all, and if I do, I just spend my time checking my email, or drifting off to browse Amazon or check on the weather in countries I have no expectation of visiting in the near future. And weirdly, I’m not even bothered by it.
I can trot out plenty of explanations for this: I’m deadlined out; I’ve been getting over a general anaesthetic; I’ve been away, and now have visitors; my head is still in time slip mode and I’m waiting to hear what revisions are needed that; I’m not living from advance to advance the way I normally am. But these are explanations and not excuses, I know, and I am rather ashamed of myself, especially when I hear about other authors getting on with their writing under the most difficult of circumstances.
It may not be very cool to admit it, but for me the financial incentive is usually a very strong one. Thanks to advance on the time slip, I've been in a more comfortable position this year, but I still can’t afford to give up my regular income from Harlequin. If I don’t write a book now, it won’t have any immediate effect, but in two or three years’ time, it certainly will, and if the time slip isn’t a success, I will surely regret faffing around now. The trouble is that I really can’t whip myself into a frenzy about something that may or may not happen in two years’ time.
It may not be very cool to admit it, but for me the financial incentive is usually a very strong one. Thanks to advance on the time slip, I've been in a more comfortable position this year, but I still can’t afford to give up my regular income from Harlequin. If I don’t write a book now, it won’t have any immediate effect, but in two or three years’ time, it certainly will, and if the time slip isn’t a success, I will surely regret faffing around now. The trouble is that I really can’t whip myself into a frenzy about something that may or may not happen in two years’ time.
The real problem is that I don’t have a deadline. I had so many earlier this year that I agreed with my editor that I would write the book and then we’d talk about a contract. Which is all very well, but I hadn’t realised then that my motivation would collapse like a popped balloon the moment the last deadline of the year was made. So the obvious solution is to set myself a new deadline but you guessed it … I can’t bring myself to do that either. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get my act together, but in the meantime, at least I’ve got most of my Christmas shopping done and it's not even December yet!