T'is the season?

I can be such a fool. I know I need fallow times, and I know sometimes they're longer than I expect or want. What I forget, what I always forget, is that when that need to write comes back, it comes back with a vengeance. And then all that procrastinating and twiddling about the internet that I've wasted so much time on? It stops. It stops because my muses want to work, and won't tolerate the delays.

I think I just need to accept that summers are downtime, end of statement. I have never yet done anything truly constructive on a novel -- any novel -- during the summer months. But come autumn, and I become productive again. It may just be old school-impressed habits that summers are for goofing off, it may just be that that's when a break is required after the fall/winter/spring writing. I don't know, but it seems to happen every single year, and every single year I forget and get frustrated with myself all over again when it happens.

Maybe by writing it down, this time I'll remember. It's just summer! So don't fight the down time. Watch all those movies, read those books, go walking and gardening, cuz it's just recharge time.

Interestingly, what's pressing now? And I mean really pressing? DTD. The muses are screaming about it, and I've worked on it all evening. Not writing, but tearing apart the scenes, figuring out just which ones have no critical change or conflict in them. I'm back at that stage where the whole novel is visual and pressing in from all sides. I can see the changes that need to happen clearly. And even had a revelation about one of the lead characters that just opened my eyes.