I recently realized it’s been about a month since I last posted here.
I’m not 100% sure why. I have my ideas which range from exhaustion, kids, family drama, election stress, illness and the ever present writer’s block.
Part of my silence started when my husband asked me one night if I always planned on writing depressing or serious posts. I did this “I do not. Sometimes they’re lighthearted…oh wait maybe you’re right”.
And then I suddenly couldn’t come up with anything to write about. My life is serious. It is a series of constant aggravating instances taking place. Though in defense, I’ve never been the happy-go-lucky type to begin with. I was the kid that was happier sitting in their room brooding and writing really bad poetry. How I ended up married to the most laid back person on the planet blows my mind. See in my eyes I’m still a bit of that kid that saw everything through dark glasses rather than rosy.
All the bullshit that has gone on through the years has left me with this feeling that I just need to keep plugging along with this life, though doing what with it I still don’t know. I always wanted to be a writer. And I think I was on a decent roll here for the first few months. Then something in my brain clicked off last month and the idea of writing anything seemed, well, irritating.
I even started NaNoWriMo this month but then quickly remembered how much I dislike the whole idea of it. I don’t like the pressure of it all, which I know is ridiculous considering that real writers do actually have deadlines and have to write a specific word count in order to get their book published. I also dislike heavily the fact that it’s in November. Why November? For those of us with kids, they’re in full swing with homework and activities. And it’s the month of Thanksgiving! I mean I have to plan a thanksgiving dinner for my family, and shop for it and cook it. Right there is a whole week I don’t have time to be staring at my damned computer trying to find the right words to complete a crappy story.
Which gets me to my second to last reason: the fact that nothing you write matters. Only the word count. Really? So someone could just write something about their dog chasing its tail for 50, 000 words and that counts as winning. Just because you completed a word count? Ugh. See I’m anal when it comes to writing a story. If I’m going to write something I’m going to edit it and research it. Which is one of the reasons the first story I started died about 2800 words in. I wanted it to sound good and in order for it to do so meant a bit of research had to be put in, and I gave up.
And my last reason:
I remembered I don’t like to write fiction. Everything that I’ve tried to write over the years in the way of fiction always bore way too much resemblance to things that had occurred in my own life. And my head just isn’t in the right place right now to use my imagination. It’s a bit too rooted in the past at the moment. I’m still trying to sort some things out.
I then discovered I could write a memoir. This would be considered a “rebel” move according to the rules and folks at NaNoWriMo.
So I started one. Only it was harder to write then I thought it would be. Once I started moving into experiences that I only rarely discuss I began to think that I wouldn’t be able to continue. And this negative attitude really took hold and I became angry with myself. Angry at myself for not wanting to continue, but also angry at the situations that I planned on writing of. Remembering so much made me feel as if most of my life was meaningless. And this became a hard feeling to let go of.
As I was working with these feelings stewing I was watching my husband and one of my best friends write like mad. Every time they announced their word counts the irritation I felt towards myself heightened, and I started to feel it toward their success. My poor husband dealt with some of this the other night when he threw his hands up in the air joyously and yelled out “10, 300 suckers!”. I turned to him and told him to shut the F up. I said it nicely, but there was no mistaking the annoyance. He just sat there with his arms up in the air with his mouth twisted into an “O”. I guess announcing your high word count to someone who has completely stumbled with their writing is not the best thing to do.
I felt bad and apologized. However every time I hear of someone’s word count, as much as I hate this competition, it makes me feel incompetent as a writer. I keep trying to talk myself into picking up the memoir again but that would take a lot of wine to be able to write and I’m currently on the wagon due to having to take antibiotics for a sinus problem. I know, woe is me.
I’ve always been good at self-sabotage when it comes to my writing. In fact, it’s the one thing I seem to excel at.
So I’m going to try and work out my issues with why writing makes me uncomfortable lately.
A shining example is the fact that I wrote most of this yesterday afternoon, didn’t like it, or rather felt it was too negative and revealing of my idiosyncrasies and walked away from it. And now I’m back. Leaving it as it is. In all its negative glory.
I miss writing, don’t get me wrong. I just honestly don’t know what to say anymore without things sounding like I spent a week at the bottom of a cave deprived of food and oxygen.
I do have happy things going on!! I swear! I just generally feel happy is boring to write about. I mean right now my kids are doing well. My youngest is really starting to read and that makes me crazy happy when I see her read books to me. My oldest is doing ok, nothing major to report. Unless you count the poor walls that keep suffering the brunt of his meltdowns. I still worry about him not having friends to hang out with yet. He has friends in school, but nothing has come out of it on the outside.
The last ten days I’ve taken a mini break from the world now that the election is over. I didn’t realize how sensitive I had become to this year’s election. But many of the issues at hand affected me in some very deep ways that I’ve yet to go into here, and I’m still not sure I’m prepared to acknowledge just yet. So it was an emotional time for me. I’m glad it’s over. And the internet is a tiny bit less hostile.
I’m catching up on reading and my DVR, which sounds pathetic I know, but the shows I haven’t watched in a while are keeping me calm at the moment. I needed the break from the real world.
I did get to go see Amanda Palmer last weekend! That was the most amazing night I’ve had in eons. I may write about that one in detail soon. I spent the night at my friend E’s house after the show and that was the first time I was away from the kid overnight where I literally left the house. I mean she’s stayed at her grandparents with zero problems and her dad took her camping one night. But I left the house. They stayed here. That was a new experience. And it was just fine. Though the kid clung to me when I returned the next day.
Oh, but back to the AP show, the next day when trying to describe it to J I turned to him and said “you have NEVER seen me like this at a concert. NEVER”. Now we’ve been to a million shows together, he’s a musician so they’ve either been his bands or just big shows we’ve gone to and let loose at. We’re big music geeks in case I haven’t established this before. I mean I can’t even name/count all the shows I’ve seen over the years. It’s that many.
This was hands down one of the best I’ve ever seen. So the little I could explain was that I was 16 again that night. I felt 16, mainly in the way that her new album takes me back musically to that time, and I danced like I was 16. This all amused J.
I will say I felt a rush after the show, well that and when she crowd surfed she ended up two people in front of me before being pulled the other direction, so it was kind of exhilarating to have someone whose music you adore be practically in your face for a second. Granted the next day I was sicker then I was before I went in there. And here I thought the vodka I was drinking that night would cure my cold. Nope.
I still need some time to get my brain back in gear. I’m hoping once I get over this sickness and the hearing starts to come back in my right ear(sinus related) the buzzing will go away and make it easier for me to gather my thoughts. And maybe I’ll have something to write about.
Don’t give up on me just yet…that’s all I ask.