A Rough Week

I didn’t do much this week and even skipped out on my Story Snapshot on Monday and my short story I was planning to publish as I was getting over a cold and quite frankly, didn’t feel like writing.

As I have mentioned in the past, I currently have a full time day job and only write in my extremely limited free time. This often means that the only time I have to write is a two hour window late at night. I have to constantly push myself to write in the late evenings, even when all I really want to do is lay in my bed until I pass out from exhaustion. Well, my body couldn’t take it this week and I didn’t write.

In that brief moment, when I try to relax (but never actually do), is when the little negative thoughts like to creep in.

It’s often hard to stay motivated to continue writing when you put an immense amount of effort into something that isn’t quite panning out the way you imagined. Can you relate? Do you ask yourself, do I keep going even though it’s possible I may work my entire life at something that may never come true, or do I quit now and preserve what sanity I have left?

I’ve heard people say that it’s healthy to take breaks, even from your creativity, but you can’t help but also wonder if you are making any progress. But how do you measure your own progress? For me, it’s writing my Substack every week even if no one is reading it, writing stories, sending them to writing contests or publishers, and generally learning about the writing world as much as I can. If I measure it by this standard, I can see that I have been doing just that. It’s easy to look at others and see how they have succeed. Your journey is not theirs. That is something one must keep in mind when pursuing something with all your heart.

I’m starting to ramble now so I leave it here. Take a rest, read a book, and take a mental broom and sweep out those negative thoughts still lingering in your mind. That is what I’ll be doing this weekend.

I wrote a little poem below to express how I have felt this week. Please enjoy.

Thank you, as always, for reading.

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In the distance, it lingers there,
but trapped am I, in this small snare.

The wild thoughts they shout I see
and who do I find speaking, well it’s just me. 

Cold fingers, I cannot move. 
Crying, laughing, I got to prove.

Ticking clock; there’s an alarm.
I try, I work, but I just can’t seem to stay calm.

But down the spiral I blindly go
with my clay and bones, I am my own foe.