Image copyright M.R. Coulter
Can’t believe our beach vacation went by so fast. Recently I led a workshop at Kennesaw State University; a week later, we were packing for a trip. And now our week is up, we’re home, and the washing machine is chugging away, washing the sand out of our clothes.
At least our memories remain.
I felt sure I’d come home re-energized and ready to write. But the only thing I feel like doing is—well, nothing, to be quite honest. What’s up? I keep asking myself. Why am I dragging when it comes to firing up the computer and getting back to my middle-grade novel?
Ever have that problem, fellow writers? What do you do about it?
