Wednesday, October 1, 2014

The Work is Feeling Very Work-y Right Now

WARNING: I'm going to do a little whining. Because I'm feeling whiny. And I couldn't think of anything else to blog about.

As the abstracts have mentioned in their Monday updates, I've recently started over writing Guardian. I completely replotted the whole thing and (sadly) most of what I wrote before is gone. I'm starting over from scratch.

I should be bubbling over with excitement and flush with the fresh joy of beginning a new creation. That initial zing of energy that comes from starting something new should be bouncing me along better than an extra large many-shot coffee with tons of sugar.

It's not. I'm actually feeling generally. . . blah.

I don't have writer's block. At least, not in the traditional sense of the words. It's not that I can't think of anything to say. The writing is not hard for me right now. I'm right at the beginning of the story and I'm all plotted out and the scenes are blooming in my head and all is well with my fictional world.

But I'm finding it really hard to actually get there. My life has been crazy these last few months and, as I'm sure my infrequent tweets and blog posts have shown, I've been having trouble keeping myself above water. When I have time to write, I pretty much just want to put my head down on the keyboard and sleep instead. I'm physically and mentally and emotionally run down and I'm just so tired.

I'm not entirely sure what to do about all this except to just keep going, the same as I have to do with everything else in my life. If I was a writer on television, perhaps I'd disappear on a mysterious writing retreat, hole up in the mountains or on a tropical island or something, just me and my laptop, to recharge my introvert batteries and reconnect with my writerly self.

Alas, I am not a writer on television. I barely even play one on the internet these days. Here in reality, holidays come and go. Illnesses and injuries attack and a beaten back. The school year swings back into session. The seasons dance across the calendar, and time marches ever on. And intellectually I know that if I just stick to the plan and keep slogging along, things will level out and eventually I'll start to feel normal again.

Butt in Chair, Hands on Keyboard. Good things come to those who work. This too shall pass. Baby steps. Just keep swimming. [INSERT RANDOM SEMI-INSPIRATIONAL CLICHÉ HERE]

Which is not to say that I'm spinning my wheels and not getting anything done. I finish the first draft of "Fishwife" and, as I mentioned above, fully replotted Guardian after all. I've got another short story forming up in the background as well, so that should be ready to go as soon as Guardian is finished.

But while I don't have typical writer's block, but I am a writer blocked all the same. And it sucks. I feel cheated, knowing I should be riding my writing high and not being able to.

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