I did a fair amount of writing. Of course no where near the 2000 words I aim to write when at home, but then again I was on vacation. I really admire the writers who can pump out a novel in mere weeks, as it seems forever since I started writing consistently, let alone since I plotted Book 1. And then I wonder: do they write around special occasions in their lives or do they (like me) just bring their material with them and hope for a moment of inspiration amongst the exceptional surroundings they are in.
In my case I didn't mind when Nancy came up after a while and asked if I could quit so we could eat (delicious Thai fish) or Alex interrupting my writing to play with him (in the gorgeous and cool pool as I was overheating). However it does raise the question if one should only write when there's enjoyment to be had writing and nothing supersedes that level of enjoyment. Or should one write like it's a job, a task, a chore? Because with the latter I feel the motivation leaving me rapidly. Don't get me wrong: I need a certain amount of push every day to get me into 'the zone' where I write like my fingers are on fire, but to continue writing just and only just to maintain consistency in output, or because it's now become my job, my responsibility to write... I don't know.
I am not a writer. I am a writer. I am whatever is in-between those two self-imposed tags, and I continue to struggle to find out where this journey will take me. As always, the road is far more interesting than actually reaching the goal. But I need to have the conviction that the goal will be reached one day. Otherwise there is no real point to me seeing the beautiful Thai surroundings I happen to be in, I might as well just resign to simply looking.
Still...I really loved getting out of the city for a couple of days.
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