First off, I’d like to thank all of you who have been supporting me along this journey. All of your encouragement has really helped to boost morale and it is greatly appreciated. The following ramble is really just a journal entry of a few things I need to get off my chest. I’ve never been able to keep a journal, but when I started this blog, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t slack off as I had done so many times before. I wanted to keep track of my progress, the highs and lows, and the things I’ve learned along the way. So I hereby forewarn you (“Avert yer eyes” – in a Scottish brogue (from the film Brave)) of the following bump in my journey:
I think I’ve discovered the reason(s) behind my recent melancholy. As a writer, mood swings are hardly unheard of, but sometimes they do happen because of “something”. The last few days I’ve been trying to put my finger on what’s been causing it…I didn’t have to dig too deep, because I already knew, mostly. 1) I haven’t been writing. Not really. I know, I suck. I was on a tear for a while there, and suddenly all the wind has gone from my sails. There are multiple reasons/excuses going at the moment; motivation, money, lapses in creative judgement, reallocation of priorities, what-have-you…
2) I have lost enormous chunks of time. I’m not even sure how. I haven’t even been gaming. I’ve been at my desk, doing what I thought was “work”, and even though I know I haven’t opened up Final Draft in days (at a time), I’ve made notes on current ideas, come up with a few new ideas, I’ve been researching for the hopeful/potential writing job, but evidently there have been big gaps of non-production. Insert question mark.
3) I was reminded of a deathbed regret. While talking with some new friends, I was cornered into revealing some things I’ve buried, in particular a man I let slip through my fingers, Nicholas. If you’ve read the excerpt about my story Fate(s) or this post, that’ll give you some insight. I felt something I hadn’t ever before, or since. I don’t like to admit that a man might solve some of my problems, I’m a bit of a feminist, but I suppose the “right” man might. I like to say I’m a romantic on the page, but in truth, I’m one in real life too. There’s a whole other story here, but it’s not for today. I was just reminded of a loneliness I’ve been ignoring. I think a good snuggle may be in order.
So there it is. Maybe now that I’ve sort of voiced them aloud, I can move forward. Or use the angst to the good of my writing. It’s a day like today when I wish I were a poet. Maybe I should give it a try.
Thanks for letting me vent, again. (I’m not even going to share this one around.)
I wish you all the best!