I’ve had a ropey last few days. Monday was grand; I came out of A Wrinkle in Time feeling so good, so positive, and then something went wrong on Monday evening. Each afternoon since then has been a drag of lethargy, leading me to the sofa, leading me to Bad Places.
When I feel bad, I feel like a failure, like I have no control over my life, that I’m nothing but a useless housewife (no offence to any housewives; I simply want a career of my own, and not being financially independent while I chase my goal is intensely frustrating and scary for me). When I feel bad, I also feel lonely, and my life feels empty, and everything basically feels like shit.
Well, I’ve had 2.5 days of feeling crap, and I’m determined not to have another day like it. I’m just so sick of bad moods, anxiety, depression… So my first step is to not drink alcohol or eat any junk food. I had a wedding at the weekend, where I boozed and ate some bad stuff, and I’ve been eating junk every day since. Funny thing about junk: it makes you want more junk. Today I woke up craving a pastry for breakfast (and not even a vegan pastry), but I forced myself to make my amazing banana milkshake, and now I feel full and satisfied without any guilt. I’ve got delicious sushi for lunch, and something nice planned for dinner. I’m seeing my counsellor today however, and I usually come out of that feeling very emotional and very much in need of wine, so I’ll need to combat that urge. Alcohol-free beer all round!
On the writing front, I’ve crawled forward on my story structure, and now I feel like I’ve done all the planning I want to do before drafting. I’ve had real problems finishing manuscripts in the last year – likely due to perfectionism and a self-generated pressure to make the book right in as fast a time as possible – so I need to constantly remind myself that first drafts are supposed to be crap. I’ve forgotten that. (I’ve forgotten so much in the last couple of years, as I’ve crushed myself under pressure to produce at a crazy rate… Sigh.) To fight this perfectionism, I think I need to get drafting. Get some words down, ugly words, and tell myself on a daily (hourly?) basis that this is fine, and all that fancy stuff about theme and story structure can come in during the second, third, umpteenth drafts. That was how I used to write, before the Great Darkness descended.
Even as I write this, I’m scared. Terrified, actually, to start writing. I’m scared that what I’ll write will be terrible. I’ll waste words, which means wasting time, and I can’t waste time because- ohgodohgodohgod! I have to face my fear. I have to get over this! Get the words down, then fix the words. Rewrite them, even. But I can’t fix a blank page.
How is it that seven years in, I’m more scared of writing a book than I was when I started? How does it seem more impossible now, even though I’ve completed numerous manuscripts, and published a few to boot? This is why writers drink and suffer a myriad of mental health illnesses. WRITING A BOOK IS SO FECKIN’ HARD.
I can’t bring myself to finish this post because when I finish, I’ll need to start the book.
But I’ve got to. Fear leads to the dark side. I have to punch fear in the face, by doing the thing that scares me most. I have to tell myself I’m capable of doing hard things. I have to believe in myself. Believe, believe, believe.
K. I’m going now. I’m going to write some words. And they’re going to be terrible and will probably get cut in revision, but write them I must.
HERE I GO!