The way I write
So we're closing in on the halfway mark of the month, and several things are becoming clear. Probably they're obvious, but I haven't had a chance to look at myself while writing for a while since, before this month, there hadn't been any writing in a while. Now that writing is finally happening again, I am actually getting a chance to see the kinds of things that let that happen.
Mostly, what I've noticed is that I am not the type of artist who draws inspiration from her tortured soul. It might be nice if I could, since then I'd feel less worthless when things are bad, but downswings for me are characterized by an utterly lack of inspiration, not an excess of it. This is why last year was spent writing absolutely nothing: badness=no energy=no inspiration=no writing. At least I've figured that out now, so hopefully if we start slipping back into badness we'll be spared the, "I'm not a real writer, writing is my soul and now it's gone, what am I going to do?!" freakouts. Of course, mid-freakout is very much not a time when I can expect logical thought, but a girl can dream. (The ideal option would be to just not have freakouts anymore, but that's not likely to happen soon, so.)
The problem is that my mental state is pretty directly linked to certain things, including stuff like getting enough sleep and actually going outside sometimes and, probably, eating more or less well. Which means that if I want to keep writing and stay mentally okay (both of which are things I do indeed want to do) I'll actually have to keep paying attention to my body and taking care of it and generally acknowledging that it's allowed to have wants and needs of its own. Getting annoyed at my body for being hungry when all I've fed it today is half a plate of pasta and a cookie is probably not the most productive thing to do. Alas. (Note: this is a lie. I have fed it half a plate of pasta, a mini hot dog, some french fries, and a cookie. Also lemonade, chocolate milk, and apple cider. I have spent far too much money at the coffee shop this weekend...)
There's also the emotional issue. Basically, I don't get to let myself get attached to lots of people, since then burnout happens and I end up useless to everyone including myself. It feels kind of awful to have to ration affection, but it's better in the long run. Maybe when I learn to handle my empathic tendencies I'll be able to have a normal-person social life again. It was nice, while it lasted.
Anyway, other than actually not being depressed, it tends to be a matter of timing and energy. I write best in the afternoons when I'm undisturbed and have a decent chunk of time set aside just to write. This is why it's hard to write on Sunday and Monday this month, since I work until 8:30 both nights and don't get home until an hour later (because I'm stubborn and insist on walking home every day to clear my head and get exercise). By the time I get home, energy is low and time is running out and neither situation is conducive to writing. Next year I'll have to remember not to work super late at night fall semester. (Yes, I have become the person who plans her schedule around NaNo. Are any of you surprised? Really?)
And that's about it. My mind shuts off when I write, so the hard part is mostly getting started, and when all the above conditions are met I'm good at making myself start.
Of course this could all be an elaborate rationalization for why I wrote practically nothing today and why my numbers on the nano site are a lie to preserve my stats graph, but I prefer to think of it as a look into my psyche. Because you totally care about my psyche. At least I'm not angsting at you, or rambling on about multiplicity, though you may get the latter at some point, since it's super interesting and vaguely applicable, assuming I can actually find much information on healthy multiplicity instead of the DID or schizophrenic versions.
Mostly, what I've noticed is that I am not the type of artist who draws inspiration from her tortured soul. It might be nice if I could, since then I'd feel less worthless when things are bad, but downswings for me are characterized by an utterly lack of inspiration, not an excess of it. This is why last year was spent writing absolutely nothing: badness=no energy=no inspiration=no writing. At least I've figured that out now, so hopefully if we start slipping back into badness we'll be spared the, "I'm not a real writer, writing is my soul and now it's gone, what am I going to do?!" freakouts. Of course, mid-freakout is very much not a time when I can expect logical thought, but a girl can dream. (The ideal option would be to just not have freakouts anymore, but that's not likely to happen soon, so.)
The problem is that my mental state is pretty directly linked to certain things, including stuff like getting enough sleep and actually going outside sometimes and, probably, eating more or less well. Which means that if I want to keep writing and stay mentally okay (both of which are things I do indeed want to do) I'll actually have to keep paying attention to my body and taking care of it and generally acknowledging that it's allowed to have wants and needs of its own. Getting annoyed at my body for being hungry when all I've fed it today is half a plate of pasta and a cookie is probably not the most productive thing to do. Alas. (Note: this is a lie. I have fed it half a plate of pasta, a mini hot dog, some french fries, and a cookie. Also lemonade, chocolate milk, and apple cider. I have spent far too much money at the coffee shop this weekend...)
There's also the emotional issue. Basically, I don't get to let myself get attached to lots of people, since then burnout happens and I end up useless to everyone including myself. It feels kind of awful to have to ration affection, but it's better in the long run. Maybe when I learn to handle my empathic tendencies I'll be able to have a normal-person social life again. It was nice, while it lasted.
Anyway, other than actually not being depressed, it tends to be a matter of timing and energy. I write best in the afternoons when I'm undisturbed and have a decent chunk of time set aside just to write. This is why it's hard to write on Sunday and Monday this month, since I work until 8:30 both nights and don't get home until an hour later (because I'm stubborn and insist on walking home every day to clear my head and get exercise). By the time I get home, energy is low and time is running out and neither situation is conducive to writing. Next year I'll have to remember not to work super late at night fall semester. (Yes, I have become the person who plans her schedule around NaNo. Are any of you surprised? Really?)
And that's about it. My mind shuts off when I write, so the hard part is mostly getting started, and when all the above conditions are met I'm good at making myself start.
Of course this could all be an elaborate rationalization for why I wrote practically nothing today and why my numbers on the nano site are a lie to preserve my stats graph, but I prefer to think of it as a look into my psyche. Because you totally care about my psyche. At least I'm not angsting at you, or rambling on about multiplicity, though you may get the latter at some point, since it's super interesting and vaguely applicable, assuming I can actually find much information on healthy multiplicity instead of the DID or schizophrenic versions.