I don’t know what has been going on recently, but my creativity has stuttered to a stop, and I’m in this horrible place, filled with doubts and destructive thoughts, ranting at me that my work is not good enough and that I’ll never reach my goal of becoming a full time writer. I am considering putting my novel ‘Anthony’ a piece I’ve been working on for the past two years, to rest. For good. I’m really attached to the characters I’ve conjured up, and I love the story I’ve created, but there’s something about it that isn’t sitting right, and it is doing my fucking head in. I know that the book I’ve written is important, in that it is about a topic that’s still considered something of a taboo and isn’t really talked about much. (Men suffering with eating disorders) I’m going to go through it once more, and see if something in me changes. I hope it does because there’s nothing really more soul destroying than abandoning your baby of two years.
I’m usually excellent at keeping up with my ‘one a day’ challenges, but these past couple of months have been anything but easy, and practising my craft has suffered as a result. This is one of the worst things that could happen to me, because as soon as my writing is neglected, the rest of my life feels the effects. And they effects are always bad. Really, really bad. Everything goes tits up and I end up a depressed, miserable wreak with a serious attitude problem and zero tolerance for anything. I know you’re probably thinking ‘well, if she knows how her life is affected when her creativity is neglected, surely she’d make the time for it on a daily basis.’ Well, sometimes life just gets in the way and there is no time left to do anything else but keep breathing. I have though, made the conscious decision to allocate time for my craft in my day to day life. Fuck whatever else is going on. My mental, physical and emotional health and wellbeing depend on getting words out and down. It’s time to take the reins again, and I’m ready.