One thing I've been dealing with lately is stress. By the bucketloads. It's not related to family (my f-i-l is doing better--thanks for the kind wishes), day job, health, money, or any of that. It's all about the writing.
I knew things were going to get harder once I had a publishing contract, but I've been really stressed out for the last couple months. In fact, I'm feeling a little sick right now. Solving the writing problems I'm having would be easier without it, I think. Oftentimes I use stress or self-recrimmination to motivate myself; right now, though, it's physically wearing me down and making me dither. Which doesn't push my deadlines out any further...
I'm hoping things will get easier later. This time of year is always tough on me, emotionally. It's the lack of light, I assume--not just the short days but the cloudy conditions, too. Eventually, this will get better. I'll sleep a lot and do something fun. Then I'll figure out how to fix Everyone Loves Blue Dog and it will be behind me, for better or worse. And then it will get better.
Of course, Man Bites World is feeling a little bloated...
I'm sure this will all get better as I get used to the process and do it more than once. I almost wish I were one of those people who could get first-time writer crazy. Instead, I seem to stare off into space, rousing myself long enough to think Why is my body acting so weird?
No consolation or encouragement, please. It would only make me uncomfortable.
