There won't be any marketing this week. I'm tired. Hell, you might even say I was depressed. (From a writing perspective. I don't feel depressed otherwise.) Thinking about writing, or my lack thereof, makes me sad.
I try to be all Positive Polly, but the act only stretches so far.
So, I spend my days doing everything/anything that doesn't remind me of my unfinished novels and my stillborn ideas. Which is probably why I don't spend a boatload of time blogging or visiting blogs lately. Marketing is about the only writerly thing I can manage, and the only reason for that is seeing the zeroes on my KDP Dashboard makes me more depressed.
It's like the writer part of me is curled up in the fetal position over there in the corner. I keep saying I'll get over this, but I'm not sure if I can. I'd like to think I'm not done with writing, that 18 books isn't the final total of my life's work, but I don't really know.
I have a book sitting in the spare room that's done being written. It's DONE. All it needs is editing, but I can't bring myself to finish editing it. Well, editing, proofreading, cover creation, getting it set for publishing... :shudder: So I'm stuck in this weird place where I can't make myself finish it.
Maybe it's fear of failure. Maybe it's being tired of pushing books out there into the world to crickets. Maybe doing this for myself isn't enough anymore.... maybe it never was enough. I dunno.
From time to time, I still think about writing, so there's still hope. Although, some days, I'm inclined to agree with Gena Showalter's take on Hope - it was always the worst of the evils in Pandora's box.
Anyway, sorry to be a bummer on a Tuesday morning. On a happier note, my greenhouse is doing it's job and protecting the plants. Yay. I wish I had a greenhouse to keep my writer self warm and happy and thriving - a greenhouse for the soul, so to speak.
Sing it, sister. I feel you. Intently. I'm tired too. And bruised from the mental beatings I give myself over my lack of productivity. Every morning, I come into my office, sit down with the thought that today, I shall get back in the groove, that new words will magically conjure in my brain, transfer to my fingers and translate into something that makes sense on my computer screen. And then reality sets in.
ReplyDeletePart of it is this book. It almost feels like it doesn't want to be written. But none of the others sitting on the back burners want to be stirred either. If I don't get off the net/mindless games today, then tomorrow I am going to do something different. I may do it anyway. I have so many freaking snippets that by the time I read through them, I forget where I thought they might go. I thinking about printing them all out indidually and then spreading them out on the dining room table and going round and round until I get them in the correct order. Then I can move them around in Scriverner--I love the cork board feature. Then maybe, with things in the right order, I can get past the 44K words already written, fill in the blanks, and get to my projected 65K or more.
Screw it. Just sitting here typing the plan out has convinced me. I'm gonna get started on that today. Why wait? That's just one stall and dodge. I've procrastinated too long as it.
Hang in there. Write if you want. Retire if that's in your cards. No one will judge. You do you, sister. That's what life is all about. But you should come visit my blog on Thursday. Just sayin'...
Later, gator.