This week has been another brutal week in world affairs.
I feel quite selfish talking about my own struggles with trivial words on a page when there is pain and death in the lives of so many others.
But this week, I’ve really battled with self-doubt and motivation. I was sick of Evangeline and didn’t want to write another word about her. I was convinced I was writing a bunch of rubbish and would never be able to write again. Blah, blah, blah. Self-indulgent writers rant.
I tried to push through but it got worse. I sat slamming my forehead against the desk, trying to break through a scene. But today, I finally got back on track.
What helped in the end?
- Advice from others
I listened to Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert about treating my creativity kindly and sought the counsel of my wise writing friend. I put my stuff into perspective and remembered I was not alone.
- Taking a break
I walked away from the computer when I was getting nowhere. I went to the gym, I went outside. I picked up an old manuscript in a completely different world/genre and fiddled with it for a day.
- Keeping going
I took a break but I kept pushing on every day. I was convinced I was writing a lumpy mess of porridge but after a few days, I could salvage it into something tasty (hopefully – terrible metaphor, bad writer).
- Nice feedback and counting my blessings
I took heart from the kind words of others and recognised my own achievements. I was grateful for creativity and the Muse, readers, friends and my words on the page, no matter how shitty.
Finally after a week of struggles, I whipped that final scene into shape and it’s almost ready for human consumption. I’m back.