One of Those Days Again

Today is one of those days where I just don’t feel like working. I want to lie down on the bed, get some snacks, and read or play some video games. It’s Saturday, I know, but seriously my job has no “days off,” or can have one any day of the week, which I’ve deemed, so far, as Wednesday. And today is not it!

My novel feels endless. I mean, it’s moving forward, yes, but the end goalpost keeps moving too. It has blossomed from a novella to a full blown novel of 40k and now it’s going toward 60k with no stopping. I feel like I’m at the half way mark since forever. It feels so discouraging! Everybody just tells me to “keep pushing” but, what if the push takes 10 years? OK, it won’t take 10 years, hopefully, but another year is a total possibility and that makes me so sad. I’m supposed to be done with this this month and move on to my short stories. What in the seventh hell?

I feel like I know exactly what to do with my life, but that goal is bad. It’s like someone deemed their goal in life is to eat Cheetos and watch TV. Yeah, it’s a goal, but you’ll die if you don’t make money. And that’s where I am. I’m writing a novel with no money. I’m only lucky that I have a supportive family and stuff. And what am I doing? Writing at a snail’s pace on ONE novel, forever. It’s ridiculous. But even keeping up with the daily word count is hard. I should be pushing myself to the limit, but I’ve done that, and all that did was drive me into further depression and completely block my creative side. I’ve learned to pace myself now, but then, the pace is way too slow. It’s like nothing ever goes right in this career path. But then I also don’t know, literally, how to do anything else. And if I try to start over (i.e. give up writing and find a “normal” job), well, I’ve been out of work for five years. So yeah, it’ll be shit with shit pay and shit hours, so, again, not helping any either. It’s really not worth it.

I’m alright. It’s just one of those days. I don’t know what to do with myself besides keep going.

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The Usual Gripes – Now with Timetable!

I know you’re fucking sick of me writing how much not working I’m fucking not doing (or doing?) but fuck, work is slow and painful. I am a bad person.

I am not a bad  person. I am trying to be a better person. I am a mediocre person? Anyways, so my s.o., after a fairly big fight and stuff, made a plan. I, like a programmer, apparently, need a manager. Because I suck at setting deadlines and meeting them, and I apparently also don’t know how fast or slow I write. Which leads to bad expectations which leads to unproductivity, etc. So my s.o., the dogged PM in his blood that he is, decided to actually iron it out. We decided every Sunday (or Saturday, depends on our schedule) we set a goal for next week, with stuff I should be doing and estimated hours need to complete, and see how far I get. Better managing expectations. Win-win, right?

WRONG! I sooooo failed the first week. I was supposed to work through a chapter and a half in roughly 15 hours or work. Yeah…didn’t happen. Got through nothing. Partially because this new thing is so paralyzing to me so I got scared (still am, but what else is new?). Partially because I had to brainstorm some large plotholes and of course, did not put that on the timesheet (yes, brainstorm takes time, sometimes days without a word written because you just couldn’t get over where that screw was supposed to go in that imaginary difference engine). My fault, of course, so this week it’s playing catch up. Before I even started. Oof.

And catch-up? Well, theoretically I’m supposed to be working 4 hours a day. However, “working” doesn’t mean “writing,” it also includes lots and lots of kinks in “planning” and “plugging plotholes” and “hating self over how horrible your characters are in their conversations and growth”. So I’ve “worked” for at least 4 hours a day and had written a total of maybe 2 hours, for the past three days. Like, what the fuck. Second week, doing marginally better than first week so I should be happy right? Ha! I’m now 3 chapters behind my schedule. I guess it’s time to readjust but how do you go to your s.o. who tried hard to help you and say, yeah, so, I so failed. So badly. Can we maybe stop doing this or start over or something? Because I’m not working less, I’m just working much, much slower than even I thought I ever could be. Sorry, I suck, I will never amount to anything worthwhile in my lifetime. Sorry you married me.

That sounds depressing, though. I don’t want to end like this. I’m not that depressed, just a momentary relapse into worthlessness. It happens. Today I will finally finish that half chapter, maybe. Oh my god. And to think if I ever finish this draft I have to pretty much rewrite the whole thing again because right now it’s nigh unreadable. Wow. Not going to think about that yet. First, I need to make sure I work at least 2 solid hours on writing and not planning today. Or some such. And keep going tomorrow. And Saturday. And on and on and maybe I can get somewhere. Man, doing stuff I love is this hard? Imagine doing a job I hate – or, maybe don’t imagine. No wonder I was depressed and couldn’t do shit for years while I worked for someone else. Just waking up feels like a chore already.

Moving Goalposts?

Well, more like a more realistic assessment on how fast I can finish this novel. I did a brief calculation yesterday and it looks like it’ll be a few days into March for me to finish it, if I write on schedule. It’s not ideal, but I know for a fact it won’t take longer than that. It’s just…I was hoping it’ll be done mid-February. I have no idea how to convey this to my s.o. because, as supportive as he is, he is definitely on the “omg how long will this take you it’s already been two years!” It’s true. And it’s 100% my fault. (Well, it’s partly depression’s fault, but ultimately that’s kind of an excuse, you know? I could’ve worked harder when I was less depressed, and I certainly could’ve this past month) So I’m just hoping he won’t ask until February and then I can be like, hey I’m done with 25 out of the 31 parts I’m going to have so…please wait a few more weeks?

Yeah…I better get to work.

A Fairly Bad Beginning

I did not have a good day.

I only managed to write about half the words needed yesterday. Better than nothing, but not what I set out to do. In the middle of last night I got woken up with intense cramps from menstruation – man, if i could trade the ability to have children with not suffering horrible monthly pain and ridiculous bleeding (so much that I become anemic and have chronic low iron) I’d do so in a heartbeat. But it’s the usual three Advil every six hours routine for the next three or four days for me. Because I have to take Advil with food so I don’t burn a hole in my stomach, I got up before the sun and made myself breakfast. And then because I only had like four hours of horrible sleep I went back to bed again. And passed out til near noon.

I am not in a good place to write today. Had to cancel lunch with my author friend since all I want was stay in bed with some tea and read. But no, it’s not that NaNo should be grueling perseverance or anything remotely such, but I also promised myself that I will finish my novel, soon, hopefully before the end of the year. People with horrible health problems all have to get up and go to work everyday, so what’s my stupid excuse? It’s not even bad just pain that go away for a while with enough painkillers. I don’t have to do backbreaking work – a privilege, I should say. So right now I’m going to try to start writing – at 4 in the afternoon. Better than not writing, and any little bit of progress is still progress, despite how futile it currently seems.