So I’m being a typical neurotic writer in need of babysitting right now — I’m working on a third draft of Hidden Thingsight now — I’ve got an outline/list of things I need to add/tweak in the story, and I keep circling the end of the story with a frown on my face, because it does not make me happy. In the last couple days, it’s felt more like ‘circling the drain’ circling.
I had a burst of creative emotional energy on Tuesday and literally could not WAIT to get to my keyboard. Of couse, when I did get to my keyboard, the first thing I did was get caught up on a long weekend of work and personal emails, fiddled with some other online to-dos, and by the time I was done, I couldn’t even bring myself to open the document.
After beating myself up about it for awhile (and being wisely told to talk to Kate, a suggestion I shrugged away, because she’s got tons going on right now), I talked to Kate.
“Go read Teresa’s Writing Journey,” Kate said. “Now. Do it.”
So I went. I read.
Late winter is a bad time for me. I’d managed to hold off the doldrums with regular exercise, but we had a fierce cold snap and I just couldn’t do it. But for some reason, I just couldn’t figure out myself that my writing blahs were related.
So imagine me slapping my forehead. Hard. Back in South Dakota, I used to have a Regular February Flipout — toward the end of the month, every year, I’d just get so worn thin and worn out and wound tight that I just spun out. I attribute a lot of this to the lack of sunlight in winter months up there, and I rarely if ever experience it here in Colorado, with all its warmth and sun, but…
… cold snap.
… lots of snow.
… few group activities.
… exercise in the last two months that I can count on one hand.
… reading more online journals than offline fiction.
So… I’ll see you guys later. I’m going to go outside, walk somewhere (anywhere!) for lunch. Tonight, I’m going to the gym.