I've spent the past two months in an all-encompassing fog of anxiety, depression, worry, and exhaustion. That's not any sort of plea for sympathy...it's my excuse for crappy and intermittent posting. I simply have very little to write about outside of dealing with the accident and aftermath, and instead of inflicting that upon ANYONE in cyberspace, I've avoided my blog (except in the case of obnoxious dog posts, which are occasionally necessary in my world).
Yup. I'm an avoider. Nope, I'm pretty sure "avoider" isn't a word.
Indeed, spellcheck agrees.
It took me six weeks to gather enough nerve to sit in front of my keyboard and just let my fingers go. I'm not sure if that makes sense...
I learned in my high school creative writing class to turn OFF my critical mind and let whatever lurks behind the wall to bypass my editor and just come out on paper. If you're a writer at heart and haven't read Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones or Wild Mind it's really time you do. (Thank you, Mr. Benson, for those lessons.) The key is to keep your hand moving and just write down whatever comes out. Keeping you hand moving (pen to paper or fingers to keyboard) without re-reading purges what hides in your soul.
Last week I finally sat down in front of a blank word document, closed my eyes, and typed. Thirty minutes and six pages later I discovered I was crying uncontrollably, but I didn't stop writing.
I'm still not ready to put anything down in an actual journal (after all, anything typed can be deleted, or even printed and burned if necessary), but at least I'm writing again. And I'm slowly opening that box-o-mess I've kept locked up tight in my chest since August.
Which brings me to the impending November writing exercise: National Novel Writing Month. I've never successfully completed the challenge. I have two weeks to get my characters and plot ready: I don't know if I'll have time to finish 50,000 words in 30 days this year with Husband coming home from the rehab unit sometime soon, but I'm sure as hell going to try.
I know, I know. Do, or do not. There is no try.
I'm not Yoda, people. And while I haven't gotten nearly enough lately, I DO enjoy sleeping.
Also, it has come to my attention that my current contract position is ending in 2.5 months. Not that I expect to write and sell a book in that time and replace my job...but it IS fairly motivating. Plus...what the hell else am I going to do while Hubby games/naps all afternoon when he gets home? Work?