This weekend was an exercise in FRUSTRATION. Yes, that’s the *other* “F” word I’m talking about. Every Friday I have high hopes for the weekend. I have 48 hours to accomplish every single thing I didn’t get done during the week. Emptying the dish washer (picking the pockets of Smelly the Dish Washer), finishing that last load of laundry (a little Whisky on that Rum stain should do the trick), eating that last piece of chocolate cake (now that’s plunder!). Clearly, I have my priorities in order.

This weekend, I had one tiny homework assignment to finish (which I did) and then I could work on the writing. But the more I worked, the more frustrated I became. I realized I’ve only been writing on the surface. No layering. No scenery. Little action between the lines of dialogue. Where I’ve been used to knocking out pages in an hour, this weekend I could barely knock out two sentences in a day. And when I did manage to make it better, feel better about it, I’d page down and find more. More dreck and more work. It feels like treading water but every time I get close to the surface, someone reaches in and pushes me down again.

How do you survive this? How long can I hold my breath? How long before I walk out of the water and say to hell with it? Because I almost did that this weekend. What do you do when it’s not fun anymore?

This is what I’m doing. I’m still opening the file and struggling away. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’ve put blood, sweat and tears into this thing now, not to mention the money, and I couldn’t live with myself if I gave up. Maybe because if I give up now, Cap’n Hellion will have my ass.

How do you deal with frustration? What do you do to keep from dropping the sails and letting the sea have her way with ya? And if you say you don’t have frustration, prepare to be flogged!