It’s very much an unpredictable time at the moment with work and its
almost certainly having an impact on other things too, especially my confidence
in my abilities meaning I’m struggling to move forwards and holding back on my
novel, in getting it sorted as the fear takes hold and won’t let go. I’ve
bought some books on structuring in the hope they might help me but I’m still
putting off the inevitable. There have been moments where ideas have been
sparked and duly noted down, but I still need to take that leap and it feels so
long since I’ve written anything substantial.
I just have this feeling of being stuck right now, both in my work and
writing. Like I said, there have been a few tiny sparks, but not enough to
produce very much. Its days like these (and today has been one of those) when
I’m completely at a loss with what to do. The emotion builds along with the
frustration, and with it, the threat of tears, at the boredom of work and the
haunting empty page to match my empty imagination. The whole month has been
pretty much like this, it’s like the passion has gone, been snuffed out. I
can’t remember the last time I wrote any of my novel and I’m struggling too
with my other ideas. Don’t they say that if you’re not excited by your idea
then the best thing to do would be to leave it, that the reader won’t like the
story if you don’t. I can’t seem to get over this all-consuming fear- that I
can’t finish my novel, that nothing I do will be good enough. I listen to other authors as they tell their
stories, share advice and for a few moments, I feel better, that I can do it.
But then it all comes flooding back, that fear. I can’t even find the
motivation at the moment to read those books I mentioned, the fear is crippling
me more as I realise just what a daunting task I’ve set myself. And I know I’m
not even saying anything new, just repeating myself time and time again, in the
hope that things will change, and yet I still can’t seem to shake this awful
feeling of dread. Is it a sign that it’s just not meant to be? I hope not as
that just upsets me more, so that must mean something right??
Walking has been great for my general wellbeing, but not so much for my
allocated writing time, cutting it in half most days and not inspiring anything
as I make my way around the route as I had hoped it would. So maybe I need to adjust my routine a little, stop making excuses. I’ve also just had
four days break from work and some stunning weather, as well as a little time
to write and yet only a few scribbles made it to the page and they were column
ideas rather than anything else. There has been a little writing and research
over the course of the month and I’m not belittling it in any way, but I still
don’t seem to be any further forward, in anything and my goal just seems
unreachable. I just feel everything is squashed to a point that nothing comes
out and that goes for my creativity as well as my skills, I’ve lost faith in
myself.
I’ve got out of the habit somewhat and I really need to find my writing
purpose again, my passion. The fear has taken a strong hold and threatens to
overwhelm me. So for now, the novel is put to one side as I work on finding my
purpose again. I’m not giving up though, just taking small steps to build my
confidence back up and exploring other ideas, creating plans and giving myself
space to play around with short stories, columns, to get that habit back. I
need to stop reading and just write, anything, go back to basics. I’m not
encouraging creativity if I’m squashing it by pressuring myself or beating
myself up. (thanks Emma!)
So I’ve started journaling and I have to say I feel already only after a
few days that its helping a little. It gives me that chance to vocalise my
thoughts, both good and bad, and about anything. Much like this blog for all
writing related woes (and celebrations, sometimes). And it’s a form of writing
too, if you like, clearing my head of all the muddle.
When I sit down to write, I want it to feel like I’m coming home. It
does sometimes, but not all the time. If I’m forcing things, writing does not
deliver. I need to find a way to hear myself, let my emotions out. I need to
get out of the way of the words and let them come. Listen and do not interrupt,
and whatever is in my head will transfer to the page and I will once more find
my voice.
I’m writing this month’s entry a little early as I’m off on holiday at
the weekend and I’m looking forward to the break, a proper break. Who knows
what inspiration it may bring? I’m not expecting much given my current state of
mind, but if I continue with the journaling and in an attempt to find just a
small positive in what looks like a sea of negativity, you never know, and I
have to hold onto that.
'Even if some days you have to dig a little deeper, we all have the strength, courage and bravery within us.' The Lion King
