The last few weeks have been… really weird.
For the first time in my adult life, I stopped writing. Even when my kids were itty-itty-bitty I journaled. This has been—nothing.
It started the end of 2021. I wrote about 40,000 words of a new story in November (which was great). Then December hit, and all motivation vanished.
At first, I thought it was burnout from November. A few days off and my creative juices would be replenished. No problem. A few days turned into a couple weeks, and, suddenly, I wasn’t just not writing, I was asking questions I never had before. Is writing really for me? Is being published the right goal? If so, why?
I’m a writer. I write. I always have. It’s intrinsic to who I am. To not create stories is weird bordering on uncomfortable. Not writing negatively affects my general attitude.
And there are sooooo many stories in my head. So many characters demanding attention. In order to write them all, I need to be a full-time writer which means earning a living through writing. It’s straight forward: Get paid to write stories so I have more time to devote to writing more stories. Can’t live on air alone after all. That all means paid publication. It’s always been clear.
And yet, somehow, all of that has fallen into question. For seven weeks now.
If it’s possible to have a mid-life crisis in just one area of life, then that’s what’s been going on. It’s the best explanation I can come up with.
It’s not a pretty thing, and I have no idea why this has been happening. But I did summon the energy to open my work in progress yesterday. I read a bit and corrected a few typos. It’s a start. The stories are still there. They’re rowdier for being ignored and warp my dreams at night. But they’re there.
It’s me who went missing.
If I ever figure out why, I’ll blog about it. In the meantime, I’m nursing myself back to writing with baby steps. It’s all a journey. Currently my path is just a hell of a lot foggier than ever before. But it’s still there, and I’ll trust my feet to find it whether I can see a foot, a mile, or three inches in front of me. That’s where I’m at right now.
Like I said, it’s been a really weird last few weeks.