Stop me if you’ve heard this one. A writer goes on vacation and… no a real vacation. Not just three days vegetating on the couch watching 24 on DVD. I’m talking about an actual get-in-the-car-and-drive-somewhere-else vacation. So this writer goes on one and brings his laptop, because, hey! it’s a vacation and all, but there might be a chance to get some work done.
Let me tell you, people, it was an exercise in futility. I have no one to blame but myself for not getting much writing done while we were here, (yes I’m technically still here, though we’re heading home in the morning). I just got too much into vacation mode and didn’t allow myself to get into writing mode. There was one day when Kimmy and I were alone at the beach house when everyone went off to do exciting things. I actually sat down on three separate occasions and got some work done each time.
So it wasn’t a total bust work-wise, but let’s be real. I’m about 950 miles from home, at the Outer Banks of North Carolina, in full view of the Atlantic Freakin’ Ocean (that’s its official name – look it up if you don’t believe me) AND on top of everything else, my birthday happens to fall on the last full day we’re here.
Let’s just say there were other activities that caught more of my attention than writing did.
But fear not. After tomorrow, which will be spent on the road, I’ll be back home and ready to knuckle down, put my nose to the grindstone, get my back into my living, and any other work related clichés you might have handy.