Last night was sheer misery for me. Oh, not that I was physically miserable, but I was emotionally bent out of shape.
I've wanted to write for weeks now. It's become particularly bad this last week, especially with the beautiful snow we've received (well, it's more beautiful when I'm at home, nice and cozy!) and the cold weather. Perfect time to write! And it's the Christmas season!
But I am so frustrated. It's been so long since I've worked on this particular novel, The Rake's Lady, that I feel like I need to review my GMC's, re-read what I've already written, and look over my character sketches to get a feel for the characters again. But I can't seem to drum up the enthusiasm. Or maybe it's the motivation.
Here's the kicker...I want to write. I want to sit down and indulge myself.
Why can't I? What is holding me back?
I've discovered something about myself lately...if I don't write, I am miserable. I get cranky. I feel a lack of peace. I feel disconnected from myself. In general, I am not happy.
Knowing all of this, why can't I make myself sit down and write? It's not writer's block. I know where I'm going, I know the characters, and I am not writing myself into a wall.
I'm thinking it's my lack of exercise the past few weeks. The weather has been bad and tons of other stuff has come up (yes, excuses, I know) and I've really missed my work-outs. I plan to go tonight, come hell or high water.
But it's not just that...my husband works very long hours. When he gets home, I want to spend time with him - it's often only an hour or two - and I feel like I should not spend that time writing since we see so little of each other. And then I feel guilty for not spending time with my kids. To top it all off, I sit in front of a computer all day and write for my job. Usually that doesn't bother me, to come home and work on my own stuff. But lately, that's the last thing I want to do - sit in front of a computer. I'd rather snuggle on the couch with my daughter and read a book than do anything.
Yet this nagging feeling won't leave me alone. I'm restless. I'm edgy. I snap like an ice-covered branch at the slightest thing. And no, it's not my hormones! *grin*
I'm at a loss. I want to write, yet can't make myself sit down. I need to write for my own sanity. Then why am I struggling?
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