I’m getting things crossed off that list, the one with 101 things to do in 365 days. And of course that is all sorts of awesome. Getting things done are the things dreams are made of, especially with a bazillion animals and young minions. But yet I’m lacking on one MAJOR area…
“Finish the first edit of Denali”
“Write a Short Story/Flash Fiction”
In all honesty it’s been weeks, maybe even a month since I’ve pondered those two things.
So my brain pulls up excuses… “You’ll get to them when all the other need to be done’s are done.” “Maybe you SHOULDN’T be writing.” “Maybe you should just be a rock farmer.” “You just suck.”
At first slacking in the blogging/social media world was great. I lost the constraints I was giving to myself, stopped hearing other people’s words and ideas instead of mine and all sorts of freeing epiphanies. And then I just lost interest.
Did I lose the muse?
Did I ever have one?
*insert image of my brain and I spinning in circles*
I’ve whined, complained before, thinking maybe this just isn’t for me. But right now my brain seems to be pretty much convinced. After all, shouldn’t a passion fuel it’s self???
And what “writer” takes months off over and over again, no one will take that seriously.
And is it the book itself? Is it the ideas? Is it me? *pours more coffee*
Do I start over? Do I just force myself to do it? Do I sell straw hats at an intersection?
Do I chase away all of my fellow readers by constant whining and pondering of my worth in the world of words?
*gulps down coffee*
And why are REM songs flashing through my head?