Oh boy. I was startled. Thought I had written a bit. Then came to see I had been distracted all day with words for others. Government documents. Legal documents. Meeting notes. But no words for me. I had starved myself in a way. Deprived myself of my own words for my own serenity. My words which provide me a reprieve, a retreat, a refuge. I need to write and express myself. It’s like a limb that needs exercising. Otherwise, the day goes by in which I didn’t truly share a bit of my being. But, here I am. Here are a few words to share. My angst. My need for my fingers to engage in word vomit.
Categories: mental health, Psychology, society, work, writing
As a novelist, the non-fiction words come freely every day (I seem to write thousands), but the fiction ones are slow. Not painful – just slow from the dripping faucet of the damaged brain.
Creating fiction requires more energy than I have many days, but I patiently sit at the computer and see if I can remove any obvious barriers that make it worse.
I feel your pain – wanting what you don’t have is hard.
When you notice, see if you can do something to fix it – even for a day.
You don’t stop being a writer except by quitting, but there has to be some reward in it for you to feel good.
In Synergy of Energy
Are REAL Glue NoW iN
FLoW Words Soul Wings
As Yes This
Glue Means Freeing Soul
And Yes what Mechanical
Cognition Naturally Takes
Away Real Human Being
Soul so Ironically Science Now SHows..:)