I hate the summer

I always misjudge.

I always think I’m going to have lots of time – lots of time to do the things I want.

Now during the summer, when I’m off work a few weeks here and there, I think it’s going to be relaxing and chill.

And sometimes it is. I get to sit down and write – and I managed to write a lot. Sometimes. At least a bit more than I usually do when life is going about like normal.

But then it backfires. You get busy, seeing this person and that, having to do all the things you’ve put aside for later. Suddenly you haven’t written in weeks, and getting back into it is even harder than before.

It’s especially hard, if you know you did really well last time you sat down for a session (at least I do). Am I going to be able to be as productive? Can I top it? How will I feel when fail being as good as I was the other time?

I try to keep it up, as regularly as possible – because I’m best when I’m doing something regularly. It makes it easier to not get to unmotivated, and it makes me going at an even pace. Both with writing, reading and reviewing.

But the summer is like the worst time for writing, and reading. It’s hot, it’s bright, it’s awful. Can’t be outdoors because I’m blind as a bat in sunlight, and it’s too warm indoors. I want the winter, the cold, freezing rain thundering down on my roof. The dark corner of my living room, the big chair with a cup of coffee.

I’m looking forward to getting back to normal, everyday life. Back to a sensible rhythm – back to writing and reading like I’m used to, back to regular review and hitting my personal deadlines. I need it to be cold and dark again.

How’s your summer been?