Posted by: drizl | February 8, 2010

Writing Doldrums…at its worst

I’m having one of those melancholy depressing moments. The sad Ipod playlist is echoing in my head bringing my mood further down into the pit of crap. I’m sure no one wants to hear it so that is why I’m turning to this place to voice my feelings cuz not a lot of people read this blog. Bwahahaha. Sarcastic laughter ringing in my head now. It is sort of funny. I thought I finally found where I belonged. Maybe everyone who writes thinks it when they are holding that finished manyscript in their hand, sending out that query and planning for the big celebration when the YES finally comes. And then it doesn’t, but you think hell I haven’t sent out that many querys. Round two starts with guarded hopefulness and more NO’s show up. You have bad days where you want to delete everything off your computer and burn all the evidence of the existence of an unpublished novel.

And then you have nights like this one, when it doesn’t seem like it’s worth it anymore. Those crazy dreams of becoming a published author are just that…crazy fucking dreams…like everything you’ve ever done has been…stupid crazy dreams. The clock is ticking so loudly now you want to smash it against the wall, but nothing you do can make time stop. It just keeps moving forward, leaving you in the dust clinging to stupid dreams. Oh my fucking God, I’m bumming tonight.

All this writing…for what…I know…hey you actually did what you set out to do…you said you were going to write a book and you did…more than one…that has to count for something…right now I don’t think it does…nothing has changed…it’s all still the same shit, different fucking day…I thought this was where I fit, but I’m beginning to think I don’t belong here either…do you ever feel like your destined for nothing…you’ve spent your entire life existing, but not really living…dream after dream or maybe they were all schemes…until there’s nothing anymore. I don’t know what’s important anymore? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do? Put the manuscripts in a drawer. The thought makes me want to puke. And cry…it makes me want to cry…Has it beaten me down to where I’m ready to abandon ship and float around doing nothing for the rest of my life. Do I admit defeat and melt into an existence where I punch a time clock everyday and do something I hate doing, because that what I’m supposed to do…be responsible…disappear…drown in the conformity of living a life that everyone else expects me to act out…am I ready to give up? Ready to say I tried I regret nothing. Could I actually say I regret nothing if I hid in a drawer? Tonight I would like to crawl in that drawer, but maybe tomorrow a new sentiment will shine through. But for now, I’m crawling in that drawer with the unread, unpublished manuscript. Oh and all my fanfics. I don’t know what possessed me to write them and right now I really would like to pull them and quit.


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