Over Coffee …
It isn’t that I haven’t been updating, it’s that I’ve been adding reviews and content to the sidebars. Check out my short stories and pop culture commentaries! (Shameless plug.)
But honestly … I’m sitting here over my coffee (with my coffee?) thinking about the real reasons I write, and how I can’t imagine anything in my life that doesn’t involve these characters, and I’m so flipping tired (Utah Swear Alert) that I’m honestly not doing a lot to move things forward. And it’s not even physical tired, but emotional tired. It’s that moment when you sit there and go “Fuck. I’m 35. I have novels under my belt. I’m an active writer. I’ve worked and (not been paid) as a writer. And why didn’t I move to LA when I was 20? Why didn’t I turn left instead of right?”
And the depression comes not from the lack of being published but wondering where the direction goes because you know, writing is like that. And depression is so easy to push through, right?
I find myself wondering about being on the outside looking in though. Knowing writers, knowing musicians, knowing people who are working in the field where I’ve always dreamed of working and wondering … what the hell I’m not doing. Other than, of course, keeping pushing forward and demanding an audience and doing my best to drown out that voice that echoes, telling me I’m not any good. Because let me tell you, there are a lot of publishers and agents out there who are happy to say over and over again that people aren’t any good.
This is the problem with being one of those writerly types. We think too much.
I dunno. I know I need to actively start music blogging again because I loved, loved, loved doing it. And of course there is the writing that needs to happen on the novel. But right now … it just feels overwhelming.
So I am going to drink my coffee. And make plans. And you know, get to work because I do have a day job.
This has been your whiny writerly post for the week. I promise not to give you another one until December. 😉