Broke the Streak ::hangs head::
But I swear I had a great excuse. I had a :gasp!: computer issue (easily solvable, I love linux and the community that supports it *in instantaneous realtime, no matter how late it is!*). Computer, easily surmountable. Two sick kids with tummy bugs…not so much. There is no support community or quick fix for that kind of virus. There is only commiseration from other moms who’ve weathered the vomit comets. But kids bounce back remarkably well, and I’m grateful that they do. It reminds me that we, too, can bounce back from setbacks. And when gut-rot hits a manuscript, by all means, we’re better off if we let it purge itself.
As a writer, it is mega-important for you to figure out your own personal flavor and brand of gut-rot. I know, ewwwww, right? But writer’s gut-rot can eat into your work and your writing and your career until you wake up one day and realize that this thing you once loved, you now hate and don’t know why. So many writer-friends have told similar stories about something in their process, their career, their writer’s life, or elsewhere that unequivocally rotted out their passion from the inside. And if something is rotting in there, it needs to change.
That gut-rot might be a step in your process, like plotting (or not plotting, or the way you plot), or the efforts you put into promo (whether or not you’re published yet), a particularly draining critique group, a toxic business or personal relationship, or even unreasonable personal expectations (I’m not saying aim for the ground, but if your goals include “NYT bestseller list” or “XYZ publisher acquires me/puts me in lead title slot/spends millions on promo for my title” you are making your success dependent on factors not wholly in your power to control.
Which brings us back around to my broken streak. It started last year, when I was whinging to Mr. Xandra about my six whole readers (honestly, I’m not sure if there are even six of you out there, LOL! And I wasn’t whinging about you, I was whinging about the lack of more of you) and why didn’t I see more traffic to my blog. Pragmatist that he is, shut me up by telling me, “Duh, readers want something to read.”
Yep. If it wasn’t for the hot air, my head would collapse in on itself sometimes. I mean, I knew this stuff, I’m a smart chick, right? (Don’t answer that)
So I very quietly made a promise to myself that, come hell or high water, I’d make sure to post something in my blog once a week. If I couldn’t post on the same day (which I often can’t as schedules for moms of little kids are fluid, at best, regimental at worst, and neither offer much in the way of free, quiet, quality, tranquil time in which to ruminate intelligently a la blog), then I’d use the handy-dandy magical “schedule post” button to make it cleverly look like I was showing up once a week, even if I was neck-deep in edits (which I was at one point) or otherwise occupied (several times). I have (mostly) kept to this goal, and the goal remained something that would be in my control. Last week, I should have scheduled my post earlier and been done with it before my troubles hit, but it’s a lesson I shall take with me into this week. I can’t control how many blog readers I get–that’s up to anybody who stumbles across this out-of-the-way cul-de-sac of the internet. But I can make it a place where readers have something to read.
Now, speaking of something to read…there’s a story that isn’t writing itself. 
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