Anything BUT Writing

Sometimes, the best way to write, is to not to. (Where did I hear that saying? A child I think).

I've been knee-deep in revising, and to be honest, it's become tiring. One moment I'm hopeful and excited, seeing how far I've come and how much I enjoy my story. And then the next moment I notice how far I've still to go and I want to just stand up in a huff and throw in the towel. This roller-coaster of emotions makes for a frustrating writing atmosphere. And then you add in the fact that my kids are on summer break and despite their ages, still feel the need to follow me around the house (any room I choose to write in), and then fight with each other right beside me.

That's when, yesterday, I decided to make the best decision for my current crazy state of mind, and for my writing. I decided not to write. No, I went outside and did yard work. My hubby was mowing the lawn, so I figured, why not? I pulled weeds, then watered the plants. It took hours. Hours of quiet. Hours of peace. Hours of time to think.


And when my kids followed me to the yard, I welcomed them and allowed them to chat my ear off as much as they wanted. As long as they were pulling weeds beside me. My oldest wanted nothing to do with dirty hands. And my youngest gladly helped for about twenty minutes or so, told me she was going to take a break, and then never came back out. :) 


I didn't discover any plot revelations. My mind hadn't come up with any amazing one-liners I could add into the dialog. But, for some reason, that physical activity coupled with peaceful nature (even if I WAS killing the weedy part of nature) gave me the gusto I needed to write. 


Do you find that to be true for yourself? Does a little break from writing, to do something physical, surge your writing ability? 


Here's more pictures of the finished yard work. Except the back yard. It still needs a weed hunt. 

 My dog follows me everywhere too, but she doesn't fight with the kids, so I let her stay by my side. :) And yes, that statue is headless. My sisters swear that I got tired of the little girl statue staring at me with her beady little white eyes so I chopped her head off. No. It was that way when we bought the house.