I’m on a roll, folks. A sushi roll.
More accurately, tonight it was a…pho roll? That doesn’t make an friggin sense. But, I was on a roll with work stuff, and I did also have pho. Mmmmmmm…phoooooo…
Goodby to January. The first month of 2018 has come and gone already.
It was a rather intense month for me. I admitted to myself that I had broken down, and my writing was stuck in the mud. Everything was stuck in the mud, actually, and my anxiety had grown out of control as a result. More so, I admitted that I my process had been broken for months, and I wasn’t recognizing it for what it was.
But, ladies and germs, thank Cooper and Coco, I’ve managed to pull myself out of that funk.
I had another excellent work day today. Again…not quite as MUCH work as I wanted to finish…but I’ve realized that’s not neearrrllyyy as important as just sitting down each day (#1) in the right headspace (#2). Those number, actually, should be switched, or at least equal…because I *was* putting my butt-in-seat over the past 6 months or so, but was I get shit from those sessions.
Not any more. It’s like the fog has lifted. I have my perspective back, and I can slip myself into a scene. Finally!
I was talking with the Ho about it on the way to pho tonight, and I think I know what the difference is. 20 Books to 50K, I love you. 100% true. And I *will* take the lesson I’ve learned here in January 2018 and find a way eventually to apply the principles of “write as fast as you can” and “release often”…but it’s not the key for me. At least not right now. The *key* for me is to take my time. I have to. The rushing, the pushing, the pressure…it was killing my creativity. And, I mean crushing it. Stamping it out completely.
That pressure was manifesting itself as anxiety, and it was anxiety that was the fog, the wool pulled over my eyes. I couldn’t see my story. I couldn’t live in it, or listen to my characters, and I hated everything I wrote as a result; everything was lifeless and flat.
The cure for me has been to stop thinking about going faster, to stop thinking about my release dates, or my marketing, or my deadlines…apparently, they have no place in my creative headspace. I must keep them separate. And it’s crucial for all of that other stuff that I do so, because at the end of the day, the only thing that really sells books is a good story. And the story that I’m writing right now, with those things banished to another island, is the tits.
That’s all for tonight. It’s now past midnight and time for the head to hit the pillow. Hello February. I’m liking how you’re looking.
Artwork tonight is from Bob Layzell.