I'm writing this from my hotel room in Quebec. This morning we stuffed ourselves silly with an over the top two hour brunch at the Chateau Frontenac (picture at left), and then traipsed around a spectacular waterfall for a few hours. Okay, and bought a whole bunch of maple flavored beer we have no idea if we can legally bring back across the border. But I digress.
The point is that I'm on vacation with my darling husband. We're gone for more than a week, with nothing but overeating, drinking and sightseeing on the agenda. And yet...I brought along the laptop. Not just to post this blog, but to work on my WIP.
At 66,000 words and change, I'm entering the home stretch. And yet, those final 30,000 words won't just plop from my brain fully formed onto the page. RWA Nationals loom on the horizon in a month. If you do the math, I need to churn out 1,000 words a day to finish by then. On top of that, I'll also need to write my pitch for the convention once I do finish. Blame it on procrastination, an injury laden spring that made it almost impossible to write for a few months, but whatever the cause, I need to get it in gear.
If my husband had brought along work with him, well, let's just say I flat out wouldn't have allowed it. The whole point is to get him away from work stress. So why the double standard? Why am I suddenly building in an hour every day to write? Sending him down to listen to jazz while I crank out the requisite number of words?
Because as much as we train ourselves to consider writing a real career, much of the time it still doesn't feel like 'work'. We write because we love it. We write for the thrill, the fun, the ability to crack ourselves up as we type. Sure doesn't sound like work, does it? Does anyone else out there bring their work on vacation?