Hello, hello! How’s everyone doing this wonderful Wednesday? Things here are quietly terrifying. Nothing is particularly bad for me currently, but we’re still in a dystopian horror story, so I can’t feel anything near calm. Anyway, as you well know, I’ve been a horrible writer for a long time now. A couple of short stories and random scribblings over the past couple of years do not a writer make. I’ve tried different things to get back into it, but I’ve failed repeatedly. I don’t really know why. I’m just lazy is what I keep telling myself. Writer’s block is a bitch. I just need time after so many rejections. Etc. But how do I fix this? How do I fix me?

I’m not just lazy. I know I’m generally a lazy person, but not when it comes to work. I went through something similar with reading when I was younger. I spent a few years voraciously reading everything, then one day I just stopped. I had no problem completing reading assignments for school, but whenever I picked up a book for fun, I couldn’t do it. Over the span of like 5+ years, I only read a handful of books for fun. Then, I randomly got back into reading. I don’t read anywhere near as much as I did, but I still read at least 20 minutes a day for fun on top of the time I spend reading for the monthly reviews. I don’t hesitate to write letters or stuff when I need to, so I know it’s not laziness. I don’t think it’s burnout either. I don’t know what it is.

I also know it’s not writer’s block. I know what I want to write and I’m not even opposed to doing it on most days. It’s like my brain prioritizes the book review reading and won’t let me write until I read, but then doesn’t want to write so late in the day. It’s more like self-sabotage than writer’s block. I suppose I really need to decide on a schedule and stick to it, but it’s hard.

Needing time after all the rejections is a good excuse, but I know it’s not really a factor at this point. Maybe the first six months or so it was. I’m not that sensitive, but hundreds of rejections (granted there were some really nice ones in there) with only a few acceptances is bound to get anyone down and questioning their life choices. But when does it become too much time? I’m well beyond that point and I know it.

Anyway, enough rambling. All I really wanted to say was that I opened the file of the book I’ve been thinking of getting back to and I had one of those moments. You know the one. That “Where’s the rest? Fuck… I have to write it…” moment. I’m not promising I’ll write it, but it was a nice feeling and I have been fiddling with the outline to update it.