Busy. For months, I’ve been more busy than I have ever been in my life, and the light at the end of the month isn’t anywhere in sight. I mean, it’s there, it’s just not something I can tangibly see right now. I haven’t even looked at a short story in over a month, much less worked on my novels. They are just little half formed skeletons on my shelf, which might sound cool, but it’s not.
I’m in this tunnel and every one says it’s okay. It’s okay not to write every day or even every week. It’s okay to just take things one day at a time. It’ll get easier, the light will come.
But when you’re halfway through the tunnel and you can’t turn back even if you wanted to, it gets depressing. By the end of the day between a new job, school, and moving, my brain is so fried the words on my screen just blur together. I can’t even remember the last time I had an idea. You know, those bubbles of inspiration that you just have to write down? Nope, not a one.
I know all the advice about making time, I just don’t know how to apply it to my life right now. And I’m sure in a week, maybe two, it will feel better.
I want to be one of those people who can just write. Hell, I want to be one of those people who can risk it all and quit their job and just write.
On a less depressing note, some of my short stories were published this month. And since I’m super slow at this writing thing and building a platform, connect with me here for now. Maybe one day soon I’ll have one of those fancy mailing lists!