Tag: Stress

Brute Force Won’t Cut It

Square Peg in a Round HoleWhen I’m trying to write lately, I feel like nothing fits smoothly. DH says I’m trying too hard and over-thinking everything. I’ve tried to back off and let things ferment, but so far that’s not working either.

I’ve had a week where I was pretty much away from the computer and didn’t even write out my journal entries by hand for 3 days. I feel like I should be bursting with the need to write something down, anything. I have done nothing concrete but think about the critique from the beginning of the month. No, I haven’t been fixated on what people were saying, but more on how I’m going to fix the issues brought up.

I did go look at how I was trying to outline my other WIP, and was chagrined to find that most of what I’d been thinking of as “plot points” that the story must hit along the way, were really emotional points and described in those terms as well. I keep meaning to drop a note to Jodi about this, as I think she’d be amused too. Of course, then she’d whap me upside the head and ask why I hadn’t done it for Revealed yet. *sigh* That’s probably why I keep conveniently forgetting to tell her.

My main problem is that my attention span is about the same as that of a gnat. I know I’m still under a lot of stress, not just from trying to resettle back in after the fires, but also with other commitments that are coming due this week. Stress is not conducive to wanting to write. It may help generate topics for journal entries, but not creative fiction.

The books I’ve been reading lately also haven’t been a source of motivation. The majority of them haven’t even sparked the “I could do that better” energy, that’s how little I liked the premise or how completely derailed I am.

Don’t mind me, I’m just feeling blue and in a funk. I think I’m going to go reread Dorothea Brande’s Becoming a Writer. She’s always good for some inspiration and motivation. If nothing else, she makes me want to be able to write in that easy, free and encouraging voice of hers.

It’s Bad When…

…your own son tells you that you need a vacation just as soon as Daddy gets home.

Turbulent wave with foam

<– How I Feel

September has been a stressful month on several fronts. DH has been traveling a lot this month for work. The kids are amazing! They’re able able to tune in and immediately amplify any stress I’m feeling. Mondays seem to be the worst night, especially when Dad’s gone. After two days of no routine, the kids are reluctant to settle back into doing their homework in a reasonable time.

They’re natural procrastinators. What I can I say? They come by it honestly. There’s also this impossible chemistry that goes on between them when you put them within 6 feet of each other. Somehow, even though they’re both under 5 feet still, one will end up touching, pushing, kicking or hitting the other the second your back is turned. An, of course, you can’t separate them. “*I* want you!” and “I was here FIRST!”

I can hear you now, “Why haven’t you been writing during the day, then?” I’ve tried. In fact, that’s when I planned on writing. After dropping off the kids at school , I have a nice chunk of time that’s relatively open until 2 pm. I was doing better when I was getting up early and doing my journal before getting the kids up. Maybe I can get back to that next week. I need some sleep.

I am still cranking out around 1,000 words a day in my journal and I’ve been fairly regular about posting here. What I haven’tCalm, small wavelets been able to do is make any progress on either of my current stories. The Food Critic has my inner editor screaming about no oomph, no real crisis, no real plot and every time I sit down to look at it, I find it impossible to move beyond where I stopped two weeks ago. The novel is likewise sitting dead in the water. I don’t know if I’d label it writer’s block exactly, but I’m in need of decompression time.

How I Wanna Feel–>