Hubby and I went to Icon in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, this weekend. We got there about 4:30 on Friday, and I looked over the program, looking for panels to enjoy. Unfortunately, the mood I was in, I didn't find very many activities that interested me. There was a concert Friday night, and as one of the co-chairs for our convention, I was supposed to be at the room party we were giving after the concert. Hubby usually goes with me, but with the party not starting until 11 PM, and him normally getting up between 4 and 5 AM to go to work, we knew he would be in no condition to do anything but go to bed. Actually, the concert ran long – almost 2 hours – and the party got postponed until Saturday night.
On Saturday, I attended a couple panels, and in between, I went back to our room, fired up the laptop and added to my current rough draft. I managed to add 1000 words to that story in one day. Good practice for November, I guess, except that I need to double that number of words.
Hubby thinks I was using the writing as an excuse to 'hide in our room'. That might have been part of it; I'm not a great people person, and knowing that I would be 'hostess' for that night's party room was wearing at my nerves. Writing takes me out of this world into a world where I control what happens. What could be more conducive to confidence?
So let's call it a mixture, both working and hiding. It kept me sane. And some days, that's quite a feat.