April seems so far away yet it was only four short months ago. Since April 2nd I’ve worked non-stop…practically every day; in some cases twice a day for two different employers. When I set out to find a part time job this spring, I had no idea I’d end up working fifty to sixty hours a week and using seven to eight and a half hours of my week driving to and from work.
That chews up a lot of life…a lot of writing time.
The only writing I’ve accomplished in the past four months is a few blog posts and my weekly genealogy column. I attempted to edit a short thirty thousand-word novel but failed when my weary schedule got the best of me.
Now with my seasonal job slowing down slightly, I am more likely to get two days off, which means I work only 45 to 48 hours a week. This gives me time to tend to the garden, start a new pasture for the goats and upgrade the chicken coop…but it doesn’t allow me time to absorb myself into fiction writing, which is what I need to accomplish anything.
On the bright side, my job ends in October, leaving me all winter to write, edit and catch up on many things I’ve missed.