The Doldrums

Well, I didn't do much blogging here last month because I was on fire with the actual business of writing Dream Girl.  I managed to hammer out 4 chapters in February and felt quite giddy with joy about it.  I finished February 2 chapters ahead of my goal and down to a total of 8 chapters left to write.  8!  EIGHT!  Hold up 5 fingers on one hand and 3 on the other and you will see how many chapters are left to finish!  It isn't very much is it?  I should be blazing like a wildfire to get those last 8 chapters done, but am I?  Nope. 
The end of February found me with a 4 day jury duty stint on a very serious criminal case that was exhilarating, but energy sapping.  During the same 4 days, an insidious virus was slowly fighting for dominance of my body and the struggle ensued for a total of 12 days.  The baby has also decided that sleep is for the weak and has been slowly but surely making his wake up time earlier and earlier.  (5:30am today...sweet Lord, I can't go on like this!)  So is it really any wonder that I'm looking at my calendar and thinking, "Eh, it's only the 8th.  Plenty of time to write my 2 chapters."  Looking to the past, this would be the part when months would go by with no thought to writing at all.  Normally, it wouldn't bother me and I'd know that I'd pick up again when the time was right, when I felt the urge again.  So this is my long dark night of the soul for my writing life.  But I do have my monthly goal to complete.  I do have the looming deadline of the conference.  I do have the stab of jealous camaraderie when I see updates from fellow writers (who already have that book deal).  I've been looking at blogs by literary agents.  I see what's going on.  Deals are being made.  Writers are writing books, getting paid, feeling proud.  I so desperately want to join them, but I feel that I'm lamely struggling to the finish line of "someday" I'll have a manuscript ready to send out.  This is why writing is a lonely craft.  Besides the solitude of the actual work, you spend a lot of time on the outside looking in.  Longing with an unquenchable thirst to get through that magical door.  And yet, here I am, rubbing my two sticks together haphazardly, hoping to get that spark that will lead me through these last 8 chapters.  Anyone want to sign on as members of my literary cheer leading squad?  No athleticism required.