My head says: “Write! Dig out those abandoned manuscripts and try again.”
But my body, fatigued and aching, protests. After a day of work, then attending to the children, then sitting with my wife… alas, I’m too tired to do anything. And so the weeks pass by, then months. When I finally find the document I was in the middle of editing, I discover that a year and a half has passed since I left it.
Some wise sages say: “Rise early.” Write at daybreak when all is quiet. Do a little and often, and you will achieve your goals. But I can’t: too tired, I head back to bed, and on and on it goes, never making progress.
We say things like: “We will achieve our goals when our kids go off to university.” But by then it will be: “We will achieve our goals when we retire.” But we won’t, because the fatigue will only be worse.
The past few days I have been dreaming of returning to my writing once more. But, alas, reality intervenes.