Publish or Perish

Oh, how the creative have fallen. As the days shift from warm and sunny to dark and rainy, and the leaves are stripped and left for dead on the wet pavement, my writing output trickles.
Sometimes two or three days will go by without even a thought of opening up one of my many writing projects. My work on The Innkeeper's Husband is one of the victims.
Blame always lies with the will of the writer, and my will has been cannibalized recently by overscheduling. It's no excuse, but it's worth exploring, if only for the insight the writer might walk away with. First among time thieves is teaching. I have two classes at CCV this fall, English Composition and Dimensions of Learning. Comp is a demanding class, that takes lots of preparation, and even more homework for the teacher than the students. Reading and commenting on a stack of essays from budding college writers gobbles up time the way I chow down my lunch when I get back from my morning gig at FedEx. That gig (FedEx) is the second leading time bandit. Not only do I give five hours a day there, but I'm physically spent afterwards. Third on the list is the Auberge de Stowe. It's high season around these parts of Vermont, and I think I've made several hundred beds over the past couple of weeks. Add to that all the regular duties of the paterfamilias, plus a desire to get out and hunt a little, and there's just enough time to pass out at night before the alarm clock rings.
But all good writing must overcome the obstacles of life. If I can earn a master's degree while keeping essentially the same schedule as the one described above, I can finish a book, dammit. So I'll press on, and if the blogs are a bit neglected, then imagine me busy at work, writing. Or making beds.