When I discovered Steve was to be away for the week I thought I would get plenty done. My evenings would be entirely my own which meant I could read and write from coming home whether it be lunch time or late afternoon. I had a plan. I was going to successfully complete the re-write and hopefully prepare my submission materials again, basically get back on the horse and write as much as I could. Although not exactly looking forward to being alone, I was however excited to be given the gift of time.
The problem seems to be that this void of interaction has stumped me. I keep sitting down to look at my pages only to come up with nothing. This feeling of hitting a brick wall seems to be a constant this year and I hate it. I don’t know how I can get through it long enough to get things rolling again. The longer these slumps seem to last the further and further away from my dream I seem to get. I know around the corner is another kick of inspiration and another drive of motivation, but the gaps between these happy moments are getting longer, thicker and harder to trudge through. It makes me feel so unsettled that I don’t seem to be able to gain any clarity or creativity – I feel lobotomized and I don’t like it. Because then, the teenage strops come over me as well which does not make for a pleasant sight.
I know where today’s black hole has come from. I saw an old colleague today who, despite never actually saying the words, I know is completely disparaging of the whole affair. She thinks I am wasting my time, thinks that leaving my full time career was a catastrophic mistake. Today she asked, in clipped tones, “Published yet?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed my stock response, “Working on it!” trying to make light.
There was a lift of her eye brows as this colleague smirked, “Tomorrow then,” before walking away.
I know what I did may seem a little ludicrous to some people, and it would be easier to shrug off if I had not an awful lot of professional respect for said colleague. But it seems to have hit hard. Am I completely insane? I was damn good at what I did, and yes it made me unhealthily miserable, but it was a career with respect. I currently feel a little close to a failure. I keep harking on about the day I am an author but my dedication to the cause seems lost beneath hours and days and months of quagmire. I keep trying to make the correct move to make everything work as I want it, to find that happy centre again but I just don’t seem to be able to. I feel like I have lost it completely and like an over tired child can’t decide what to do with myself. Last year I was constantly amazed by how exhilarated each day made me, how spending time writing created a level contentment that made for a happy life. And now, for the last few months, its gone. Peaks and troughs are back, sadly more troughs.
I’ll be ok. I’m just a little lost. I’m sure before long I will discover the map to find my way back – or perhaps a trail of bread crumbs kindly uneaten by the birds. I don’t like this wandering in the woods. They are dark and scary and full of monsters. The light has been missing for a while but I am sure the clouds will part before long and the moonshine show my way.
Apologies for having a sulk, just thought it might help free what’s trapped.
Hope you are all having a less frustrating day than I!