It’s the day after the Society of Childrens Books Writers and Illustrators winter conference. I’m home, my bags are unpacked, and I’m back to casual jeans and a loose ponytail, but there’s no time to relax. I have a to-do list a mile long: compile a recommended reading list, connect with people I met via social media, prepare submissions, develop the story idea scribbled in the margins of my conference notes, and much more.
The thing is, and it is a good thing, Mister missed me. He’s got a to-do list too: play excuse me sir (where basically he’s a short-order cook who chucks food I didn’t order through his kitchen window at me), be served at our pretend restaurant, read every book on the shelf, create a fake lake in the living room, and definitely do not let Mom get anything done. Today, his to-do list gets first priority.
But paying attention to him is making me feel antsy. Misaligned. Like I have an itch I can’t scratch. But that might not be so bad.
Since…um…fall, maybe, I’ve been a little unmotivated. I didn’t feel like I had much new stuff to offer. I couldn’t bring myself to do revisions, which I’m not fond of even when I am motivated. I’m even behind on my reading list.
But now I’ve got this drive that goes beyond the time I have to work. New ideas are popping up again. And I’m even excited to revise. I’ll take the incurable itch if it means wanting to write. It is a problem that might turn out to be a good thing.
When have you had a problem that actually turned out to be a good thing?