For those of you who are wondering what I'm talking about: Beth Fred and I host a monthly bloghop. A bunch of us have set huge/crazy/very important goals. On the last Friday of every month, we share updates on our progress (if any.)
You're welcome to sign up! You can find more information here, as well as see how everyone else is doing.
So how have I done?
Reading: Pathetic. I've only read a few pages in the beginning of the month.
Life: Uhm........ Let's just say the crap continues. Which means that:
Writing: 20k words, all of which except for 14 were written in the first two weeks.
I wasn't helped by the fact that I got a flu around the 14th.
It also feels like... since setting aside my major goals for the rest of the year, I've sunk into doldrums, the likes of which I haven't experienced since my time in university.
I guess, by abandoning my plans, I'd abandoned my hopes for my publishing career, and as a result, I no longer have the incentive needed to be productive.
Yes, I know what I've said before about not writing to publish. I stand by that.
But it's also a widely known fact that writing is difficult enough without staving off what might become a monstrous depression of a scope I've managed to avoid until now. It's difficult enough to write when everything else is going well.
And I'm not doing well. Not by a long shot.
And that's the truth beyond my radio silence.
People don't want to hear about the sadness, hurt and pain of others. So... it's best to try, at least, to limit posts about these things to a bare minimum while burying it in pep, promises, flowers and bunnies.
But when you're this tired... This hurt... this... hopeless. There. I've said it. Hopeless. All I've got left is a grim determination to survive.
That's not going to help me write, because right now, writing isn't giving me anything to eat.
And it's certainly not helping my social networking, because grim determination tends not to bring out the snappy tweets, inspirational quotes or wise, philosophical blog posts.
So in short, I'm basically incapacitated when it comes to writing anything the way I used to.
It's difficult for me to be friendly and funny and whatever else when I'm visiting other blogs, so I've stopped commenting because I hate writing a comment and feeling that that thing I've written just isn't me.
But I digress. Grim determination is really not a good place to be in when writing a book. No matter how difficult it is to write, I don't believe it should be done with gritted teeth and white knuckles. And for all of eleven days, I had a moment of peace within myself. That was when I wrote 20k words. Which is sad to think, because at that rate, I could have written 60k if the peace had lasted.
Maybe, things will turn around and I'll regret my apathy toward writing later when I'm way behind (which I am already to the point where falling more behind hardly matters) and suddenly have the opportunity to publish again. But to be honest, that seems like the best case scenario right now.
How are you doing?