Do apathy and writing go hand in hand? Some days it can feel that way when you will do everything in your power to do anything but write.
When I first decided to write my novel A Twist of Fate, it was a moment in my life where I said screw imposter syndrome hear me roar! But as I continued to write and then rewrite again and again I found myself dreading the words I had written. The words I had yet to write.
It becomes a sort of dance. The characters and story race through my head and I feel exhilarated by all that is to happen to them. I can picture it all so vividly in my mind. A moving picture bursting with colors. I should be running to my computer or grabbing for a piece of paper to jot down all these thoughts, but I don’t.
I sit and stare at my computer hesitant to to actualize any of my thoughts into words on a screen. If I write then it means the book is real and there is a weight to that. Especially when you are writing and publishing on your own. I have talked about my past failures in other posts. I have written why I easily gave up and for so many years continued to believe that I was not worthy to tell my stories, that I would never be good enough.
Today, I continuously push through those sentiments but it is not without struggle. I can spend hours being idle before I finally start to type. It is a frustrating push and pull.
In the last 18 months of Covid I have mostly been alone. Keeping afloat and dreaming of days where I am stable once more and able to pursue the creative life I have always dreamed of. Those thoughts drive me to keep going and at the same time stop me in my tracks. After so many years of telling myself I can’t, now that I am, and with the prospect of being somewhat successful, my brain has learned to stop me in other ways.
My anxiety spikes and takes hold of me when I am on a deadline. When things start to fall into place, schedules are made and need to be met, my whole body, mind, and heart will do almost everything to stop me.
My second book is in the works. It was a long struggle to get the plot into place. The excitement of finally figuring it out had me all but dancing in the street. I am determined to get the book out before Christmas. This means I am writing it in far less time than my first. Suddenly I am on quite the time line. A second book means the first was not a fluke. That I am no longer flailing about wondering if I could. I know I can, which means life as a full time writer and artist is very much within my grasp. But it’s also terrifying and thus staring at walls feels a lot safer at times.
It’s been a week since I have written a single word with 67,000 to go. I should have written today, but instead I wrote this post. Sometimes we will do anything to stop us from the life we know we are capable of having. My posts often deal on the same theme, the same ramblings because I know I am not the only one who struggles.
It’s a push and pull, but still I have come so far and I take fewer steps back each time.