Being Stuck

Every time I open my computer, several pages have been defaulted to open immediately. You know, the usual. Facebook, MSN.com, Google, etc. Another one that opens is my blog post. So, every time it opens I am reminded that it has been a hella-long time since I wrote a post. And I wonder why that is. Except, I already know why. I'm stuck.

In fact, being stuck is a relatively normal thing for me right now. I feel stuck at work. I adore my job and absolutely love what I do, but I know changes need to be made, involving me and my department, and if they are to be made, I will have to do something about them. But, I don't want to. So I am stuck.

I'm also stuck with my home life. Actually, to be more specific, with my home. My family and I want to buy a house, make it a home, have a backyard, fret over paint colors and bald patches in the rug, and which tea towels bring out the color scheme of the kitchen. Except, we can't. Not yet anyway, and we are working to make "not yet" go far the hell away, but for right now, it is here, prevalent. So I am stuck.

I am stuck on the page as well. The written page. Or, in my current case, the UN-written page. I have ten published books and I am writing the eleventh. You know what? It's really friggin' good. The whole genre itself actually represents another departure for me, another veer from course, another challenge accepted. Can I write a book for a young to new adult that doesn't have one single solitary paranormal element? YIKES! A contemporary story? So, as I am writing it, it turns out I can. I have a great premise, bitchin', fleshed-out characters and one bears a striking resemblance to the girl i wanted to be when i was younger. See? Exciting stuff. Except, I am stuck.

I know the story I want to write. I want to write the story others want to read. But, being stuck is really getting in the way lately. To an annoying degree. I've come to understand that while I am, indeed stuck, and this is now a level of normalcy for me, I am not at all comfortable here. It's like when I went to Magic Mountain when I was a young adult with friends. There were five of us and a Pinto. (This now will age me, I'm sure.) I was skinny and cute back then, so I was put in the middle of the back seat. Remember the middle of the back seat? The one with the hump on it? Yep. Rode that bastard all the way from San Diego to Ventura goddamn county. It was bearable, sure, but verrry uncomfortable. That's what being stuck feels like.

The good news is I have been here before and the territory is familiar. The bad news is that I have never been here in so many areas of my life at one time. I'm not depressed; far from it. I am....considered. Thoughtful. Anticipatory. And pissed. Very definitely pissed. I need to buckle down and kick this whatever-it-is in the ass. How I have decided to do that is to make a list. I have been making lists my whole life. In fact, I come from a long line of list-makers and we excel at our task. So, here is my list. It's called Things That Will Happen In 2014 Because I Want Them To Happen.

1. My Hubs and I will buy the home I love for my family.

2. I will finish Book #11, start and finish Book #12 and start Book #13.
3. I will come to the attention of an influential literary giant. (agent , publisher, editor, I don't care)
4. I will blog more often, willingly, because there will be many joyful events on which to report.
5. I will have a greater presence everywhere: in my children's lives, in my book-babies, in my marriage, and in my profession.

In short, I will be kicking some ass and I will be starting with my own. It may be April, and very nearly May, but for me, 2014 just started. And it better look the hell out.