It’s been more than a month since my last Thought of the Week, and almost a month since my last post on here at all. With every Monday that rolls around, I hope desperately for the strength to write something—anything—to let you all know I’m still around, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Today, finally, with a bit of time before work, I summoned the courage to at least give a brief update.
I haven’t written anything for many months now. Exile is continuing to languish in edit hell, and I can’t get past chapter ten of Ancients and Death. Every time I try to sit at the computer, on my iPad, and write, despair floods me and I give up before I can even begin. I want so desperately to continue, to tell the story of Brandyé and co., but I just … can’t.
… more importantly, I’m disappointing myself.
My doctor has increased the dose of my medication, almost to the levels I was at a year ago. We thought I was doing well and lowered them—and for a time, I was doing well. The burst of energy I had at the start of the year was wonderful, and I wrote more posts for this blog in January and February than I did all of 2014. I got a lot of writing done for Ancients and Death, too. And then it just … died. I feel like I’m disappointing all of you, and more importantly, I’m disappointing myself.
The only positive to have come out of the past few months is that I signed on to be a feature writer for the review blog, Girl Who Reads. The lovely Donna over there posts an article of mine on the first Friday of every month, and so far I’ve at least been able to bring myself to write for that, if nothing else. I can’t speak to the quality of the articles, but at least I’m getting them done, and on time. Perhaps that’s what I need for my own writing, too—a kind of deadline, a consequence of failure to write. That’s one of the hardest part of being a writer, I think: the fact that if you don’t write, there’s no one to tell you “you’re fired”. No one to give you a swift kick up the ass.
As I was reading the news on Flipboard this morning and sipping my coffee, it occurred to me that June is only a few days away, and a new month might be a good chance to make new commitments. I’d like to start small: first, post a tiny something to my Facebook author page every day, even if it’s only a word. Perhaps even this small gesture of writing will inspire to write more, and I might find myself working again. Perhaps not, but at least it’s a start. I need something to turn me around.
Here’s to June—a new start, halfway through the year, and a chance to finish what I’ve started.