If you have followed this blog for long, you will notice that I'm very dishonest and don't often whine or complain about things in my personal life.
*ahem* Perhaps I exaggerate??
Alright, so this post is a bit of personal, but with a fabulously happy ending about writing. Will you continue to read?
The last six months have been really rough for me. Not just in finances, or daily family struggles or children misbehaving; but emotionally and mentally....R-O-U-G-H. It is usually in times like these, I turn to writing. I pump out hundreds of thousands of words (we won't mention that most of them are not used in story form-oh wait, I just told on myself) in blog posts, journals, short stories, novel beginnings(hehe get it?) and letters to the dead.
These last six months, I've possibly pumped out a few hundred words. Total. Period. I'm supposed to be a writer, ya know...I write. But I've found myself instead, thinking about writing a whole lot and then staring at a blank screen. So, then I stare at a TV screen or read to try and inspire myself. Nada.
I've re-evaluated my process. Where my desk sits. How I feel at each point of each day. Is Saturday different than Tuesday? Morning better than night? Afternoon better than ever? I briefly considered moving my desk into the bathroom....you know what they say...... Best thoughts on the pot and all. Not to mention the hundreds of times an idea has appeared to me in the middle of my shower and then *poof* disappear by the time I get out.
I let go and gave up. Let me tell you how well that worked for my self-confidence. Not.
Well tonight, the Prince went to bed early and my wonderful Court Jester went to pick up BFF from work. I put pen to paper and started writing. It was cohesive. It made sense. The words kept coming and coming. Then BFF and Court Jester got home. For a minute, it was okay. And then I suddenly couldn't keep my thoughts straight anymore. I got this funny little tightness in my chest and I thought, "This is ridiculous! I'm not having a panic attack right now. There's no stresser, no fight or negativity flying around." But try as I might, I simply got more irritated and frustrated and the words wouldn't come together for me anymore.
I've suddenly become ....... Write Shy.
I don't want to write when other people are in the room. I don't believe it to be specific to CJ or BFF. I think I just suddenly have gotten some strange affliction that I've never had before. I don't know where I could have caught it. I don't even know why it would infiltrate my very strong Ignore the World to Write instincts!
Having identified this problem is a huge step. Let me tell you about the weight that has broken and tumbled off my chest. Well, it's been replaced by a smaller weight. How to resolve the problem.
That, my Cool Kids, will be for another blog post. ;)