New year but just another common post about 2019 goals. I’ll be turning 29 in three months and I sure as hell don’t feel that old. But with the dawn of a new year and a looming birthday, I ponder what my new goals are going to be. I think I’m almost over my burnout, but my energies are scattered and I haven’t been able to focus them at any one project. I have a few almost ready, semi-ready and tons of uncompleted stories that I can’t stop thinking about.
But I have some vague goals that I want to achieve in the near future. They are;
- Have another story self-published by my birthday (March).
- Have a total of three stories self-published by the end of the year.
- Complete a total of five first drafts (I have many semi-completed first drafts).
On a side note, I’m planning on spending time in coffee shops while writing. In the past, I’ve only ever written at home because it was just my habit, that and I’m also quite cheap. Now I’m going to have to fork out a few pounds for some tea lol.
I haven’t created a hard deadline of when these goals need to be done, but I figured that I’ll wing it.
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.
What is wrong with me!?
I’m a writer that doesn’t want to write. I cannot make the words appear on page and I cannot edit the words I already have. The stories are there, but I cannot rise to perform. For Christ’s sake, not two years ago I wrote a hundred thousand word novel in two months. And then I went on to other writing projects unfazed! I was a machine. I was churning out story after story, getting idea after idea, editing a novella in a few days and now . . . my brain doesn’t work. I’m jealous of my past self and of other writers. Like how dare you go out and produce books while I’m over here not.
The days pass by, they turn into weeks and then months and now it is the fourth month of my burnout. How much further along could I be if I wasn’t like this? I watch things, but I feel no joy from watching. I buy books that I would otherwise be interested in, but give up after a few chapters or not even begin.
My USB is full of stories. I’ve written so much and yet I take no sense of joy, pride or accomplishment away from it. Its new home is under my desk instead of permanently plugged in my laptop. I could lose it and not care.
I’m supposed to be a writer Goddamnit! Why am I not writing? Why am I so impotent? How long will I not be able to get it up for? WTF is wrong with me? I feel like crying, but I prevent myself from losing control. What am I even doing with all this free time that I now have? I spend it thinking that I’m wasting my time and talent and then get simultaneously pissed off and sad when night falls because what I have I accomplished? What am I doing with my life? What else do I have? How did I lose passion for my passion?
How do I even get over burnout? Do I just wait until my mind gets better? How long do I have to wait? I’ve had plenty of time off work in the four months since I gave up. My sleep is fine, my diet is mostly fine. I’m exercising. I have ample free time for everything in my life. But I’m moody and irritable. I don’t want to do anything else but write because it’s the only thing that I really like doing. And now it’s a thing that does not bring me joy.
I think my burn out is starting to wane because I managed to do a draft of The Things We Do, but I had to force myself to do it 😦 I’ve just finished two weeks off from work and I never really utilised it. I think back just over a year when I was powering through and I could have done multiple edits of different stories.
I’m starting to think that maybe I won’t have anything ready until next year 😦 The fact that I have not accomplished anything in the last few months really annoys me. Technically I could have finished and published two stories by now. Just thinking about it makes me feel down. So much time wasted. And I know what I need to do with all the things I have, but I just don’t feel like doing any of it 😦