Hand shitting and the occasional clap

I had a thought today, what if I don’t get over my burnout completely until the one year anniversary ticks over. That’s next May! Right now I have no desire to write anything (despite writing this post) in fact, I’d rather shit in my hands and clap.

And I was starting to improve only a month or so ago too. I had slogged it out and got a novella out and did a draft of another, but maybe that was the reason. I pushed myself too much too soon.

The idea of story creation seems tedious and I’m having feelings of inadequacy. But that’s ridiculous because I’ve improved so much in recent times and I got the stories mapped out. But at the same time what if I fuck it up? What if later on, I find out that there is a better way to write it? What if I’m not the right on to tell this story? (But come on I’m the one that thought it up, I’m the only one to tell it) I’m all mixed up and nothing can really do anything about it but me.

Limited non-progression

Since my burnout in June, I’ve only just begun to get back to normal, but my year of non-progression has made me feel shitty about my future. Where am I going if I’m not writing? What is it all for?

But I’m emerging, I’ve written about ten thousand words of a new story, but just the thought of all time wasted in the months before makes me depressed 😦 I wanted to have at least one other story out before now, but I have failed myself. Maybe next year will be better.

Day 22 of writing

No words 😦 I feel a sense of un-accomplishment pervade me. I can’t finish things and have an even harder time starting them. I read a section of Bell’s book ‘The Mental Game of Writing’ and there was a section about how over Christmas he goes over what he’s done for the year and all I can think of is that I have wasted so much time 😦 I really think that I could have completed a few works and have them out by now 😦