Gathering up your days
into something that is meaningful
is at times an absolutely daunting task
when the evening completes
your transformation into
a haggard shell of what you were
when you had awakened.
Your shoulders hang limp.
Sleep gravity threatens to floor you.
There are strange colourful shapes
floating in the corners of your eyes
and focus seems
out of the question.
You need to shut yourself down but
tomorrow will be the same
and there will be no sense of
That is unacceptable.
You were not put here
to give in
so you pick up where you left off
and you keep at it until the
sense of having actually
settles in because that
is who you are.
I have been struggling all week with the first three chapters of a novel I had written 13 years ago, my first born. Not sleeping and trying to do everything in one day didn’t help and I should have left it alone but I’m such a stubborn mule that I just kept at it until the point that I was so miserably frustrated with it that I was about to throw it away. I worked it over four times and at the end I knew that this was not how I wrote these days and it seemed too daunting of a task to take on when I should really be working on a new book like I have been wanting to ever since I started throwing my shit online but this meant something to me when I wrote it. The story had purpose. It was just written terribly. I had given up.
Funny that of all places the mechanics was where I had pulled out the pages and a pen and started cutting into it. I chopped away and moved things around and within an hour I had the three chapters how I wanted them. I had finally cracked this book and am certain of completing it within good time. I just wanted to take this moment to share that and say ‘Fuck yeah!’ It’s on now.
Don’t give up. Don’t kill yourself over a project either. I wish I knew how not to.
Link to the synopsis, which is totally getting an overhaul as well. What was I thinking?