Do you have a hard time getting up and even doing what you love? I do from time to time. Recently it has been getting worse, and the cause seems to be from many different angles. Here I am working on something that I have always wanted to do, yet I feel dread creep into my bones when I sit down to begin writing. Doubt that I am fashioning anything that is even slightly entertaining fills me with dread. Certainly the ideas and concepts I enjoy, but the words that come out I grow doubtful of. It helps to go back and review them the next day, as usually I am more pleased with them then, but as they come out it almost seems farcical that I might even consider myself a writer. Even now as I write this I can not even think of it as of any value. Another thing that is bringing me down is the continuation of this cursed winter. I miss the green of spring, the heat of summer, and the colors of fall. There have been a few days that have been warm, but the color has yet to return to the earth. Even today as I write this snow has fallen once more to coat the world in its white blanket. I miss the smells of life that come from the ground when the soil is thrust aside by new budding life, and the freedom to enjoy the outdoors. While I do enjoy the first snows of winter, and I make use of its bounty to create strange snowmen, this has gone on far to long. Like a friend that has overstayed his welcome, I find myself wishing to push it away and out the door. I am trapped inside with little to do but contemplate my own emotional state, and that leaves me even less confident. Perhaps I will feel better when freed of my self-imposed prison, or perhaps it will only be a brief respite, either way I look forward to the relief of spring, and the relief of completing my novels.
Update – 2,000 words written. Feeling less dread as I have put it into words.
Fight on, your goals are what make you.
– Steven Oaks