M is for Melancholy
So, I've gotten myself into a bit of a mood lately-- just a general funk and melancholy and feeling of stuckness-- in writing, in life, in everything. This is a horrid mood for me, because then I wind up thinking that's the mood I'm in, which leads to me staying in that mood because I keep thinking about it... Anyway. It sucks.
Today I decided damnit, if I'm going to be in this mood anyway, I might as well work on THE TIES OF BLOOD, cause hell, the whole opening of that book is like ripping myself open and letting all the sad and moaning and pain spill out anyway, so might as well, right?
Can we say cathartic much?
Between Arion burying his feelings over two things now, not one, and Isis *fretting* and talking to Marius's portrait, I'm suddenly in a much better mood. Even if I am reasonably worried over a few IRL things, well, I'm not the emotionally abused son of the most feared wizard ever-- or in love with him.
So there's that.
Today I decided damnit, if I'm going to be in this mood anyway, I might as well work on THE TIES OF BLOOD, cause hell, the whole opening of that book is like ripping myself open and letting all the sad and moaning and pain spill out anyway, so might as well, right?
Can we say cathartic much?
Between Arion burying his feelings over two things now, not one, and Isis *fretting* and talking to Marius's portrait, I'm suddenly in a much better mood. Even if I am reasonably worried over a few IRL things, well, I'm not the emotionally abused son of the most feared wizard ever-- or in love with him.
So there's that.