This evening it occurred to me that writing has some things in common with weeding a garden. If you do just a little bit a couple times a day most days, at the end of a week you’ve made an enormous amount of progress. And if you do nothing for two weeks, you pick up your draft and discover it’s been overrun by violets.
Ok, maybe you just have to spend some extra time to reorient yourself to what was going on in your short story WIP, your novel-in-revision, and your novel-in-planning. And send out a stack of submissions that were waiting for May. Hypothetically. The violets could be all lurking on the next page.