So, readers, I have been dealing with an extended period of depression and insomnia (are the two linked? I have come across many papers which suggest that they are) and of course, it’s winter- and I always get lethargic and kind of mopey in winter.
All this means that, on my single days which I have to myself to write (those being Sundays), I find myself doing laundry, tidying the house, sitting on the couch typing diary entries or emails or blog posts, and basically doing anything and everything except writing fiction. Today has been no different- all I have accomplished is one load of laundry, a shopping trip to get groceries, and a long email to my collaborator at UCLA.
This is actually not great, since I’d like to get my novel finished by December 31 (a rough draft, at least), and I have a lot of chapters left. I am telling myself I can write a lot over the holiday break, but honestly- unless I am left alone, it’s just not going to be possible, and it’s the time of year where there is never a lot of time to oneself. I may have to revise my schedule for the novel and just chalk it up to my own frailty (curse you, seasonal affective and bipolar disorders!).
I have another couple of hours after I finish typing this post to work on creative writing- I may give it another shot. The self-talk running through my head isn’t helping me meet my goals: it’s a never-ending stream of “you’re too tired to write well, everything you write today will suck, just put it off until next year”, etc. etc.
It’s a vicious cycle, because each time I fail to meet my writing goals, I feel worse about myself. I need to have discipline and I need to try to muster what energy I had when I was writing two chapters a weekend. Here’s me signing off with a note that I’ve got about two hours left to write today, and even if all I do is stare at my computer screen, I am going to give it my best shot.