The last two weeks have completely thrown my blogging and writing schedule to the dogs. All of my blog posts lately have been about Conor, and I've managed to write all of a single paragraph on my secondary WIP.
Everyone is being so supportive, telling me to take my time and not to rush myself. I'm my own biggest critic in this. I've gone through feelings of worthlessness, anger and guilt, all over the fact that I haven't been writing. It's been one of the hardest things to admit that I'm not this hardcore author who can keep working even while suffering the grief from the worst day of my life. My ego has taken a beating. I'm not the kind of person who can go through what's happened and come out unscathed.
In my heart, I know this just makes me a good person. Part of me is relieved to know that this has wounded me, and I still need time to heal.
But I want to write. I have a book coming out next year, and I want to be able to query the next book in the series by then, so that if it's accepted I can hope to see it come out the following year. I have a secondary WIP which calls to me. And now yet another idea which I want to play around with. I can't do these things, tell these stories I love to tell, unless I just write. It hurts. Sometimes I don't want to move or even lift my head.
But it's time to get back up. I've been hit hard. I've fallen. It's time to get back up. I don't know how long it'll take to get my strength back, but I have to start. My blog schedule may still suffer and my word count may be low.
But I'm getting back up.