I was asked if I wanted to write another one of these series books for next season. (The first draft of the one I’m writing now is due on Monday.)
I considered. I sat there a minute or two, looking at the email, feeling inside myself to see how I should respond.
I wanted to say no, because I’m tired, so tired, and also I want to write other things.
I wanted to say yes, because I do like writing them more than any of the other assignments I’ve had, and because I’m sort of tied to the series. I have real affection for it now.
I said no. I can’t believe I said no. Well, really what I said is that I wanted to, but I needed a break, and maybe I could do one in the future. And you know what happened? They said okay, and that was that.
I feel like I lost out on something. I feel sad.
Also I feel relieved. I feel like the weeks are opening up—once I get through all the deadlines I already said yes to—the free weeks up ahead. That time is far away, but it’s there. I saved it for myself, and for what? I don’t yet know. I hope I don’t regret this decision later.