In some ways, I'm great at multitasking. I can actually watch TV and do complex needlepoint at the same time. Or read a book and have a conversation with my husband at the same time.
Some days I recline on the deck dreaming of new books or casually flip through some research material. I may even wonder what's happening with my writing career? Why the *!@$ isn't anything happening?
OK, now is not one of those times. Now EVERYTHING is happening, so I've learned to multitask. I'm trying to write a rough draft for a series my publisher is doing. It's due the end of October. While waiting for edits to come back on my currently contracted book, I started resurrecting an old manuscript, doing lots of polishing and researching. By the time I got really into it, guess what? The edits came back. And painful as it was, I had to put aside the project I was really into.
And the rough draft? I'll be lucky if I even remember my characters' names, much less their arcs. Oh, wait. That's right. I haven't even gotten around to naming them yet. (The heroine is not too happy about rolling in the hay with a guy who doesn't know her name.)
When writing was a hobby, I only worked on one book at a time and I polished to my heart's content until I was ready to let it loose. Now I have to keep all those plots and characters divided in my mind like sections of a grapefruit. I have file folders on the desk, on the floor, and in my tote bag. Thank goodness for file folders.
As long as I keep working, I may not finish anything but at least I'll get something done.
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