This hasn't been my most productive week. I mean, I've been busy like hell, but the writing output's taken a beating. Between increased hours at my internship and moving house, I suppose it was bound to happen. There are only 24 hours in a day, and mine have been action packed for the last few. As such, one short story in development got derailed, and I cancelled the first draft of another one that had stalled as I dealt with everything else. On the bright side, I've been on track revising a third story from a week ago, and should have it ready to submit by the weekend.
But the truth is that I couldn't help feel a little ticked off being forced to clear off one day of writing after another. Even though I'm running on fumes and waking up tired, I felt bad. I'm also rereading Stephen King's On Writing and got to the part where he talked about his drug and alcohol addictions.
He ended the section with this: "Life isn't a support-system for art. It's the other way around."
I'm not a drug addict. Never tried the stuff. And it's been a few months since my last drink (a celebratory shot for Roar Shack's publication), and, geez, I think over a year since I got really tanked. But I understand what King's really getting at with that quote. Life has a tendency to happen. People move. Babies are born. Bills have to be paid. In the 24-hour day we all get, the plate sometimes gets so full and we have to sacrifice time somewhere.
Hopefully, there's not too much sacrificing, more like moving around the pieces, because every writer has to deal with this, and all of them from Stephen King to JK Rowling are able to produce new works. Even the ones who had a lifetime of full day jobs like Wallace Stevens made it happen.