I just reread my blog from this morning and decided I should always drink coffee before I touch the key board.
I do have half an excuse. When I cut into sleep time, I get so tired that I can’t fall asleep. Sleep eventually comes, but my dreams are so vivid, that they take on an almost nightmarish intensity.
That happened to me last night and I woke up tired and very, very grouchy. I took myself waaaaaay too seriously. I apologize sincerely for any irritation caused.
As the sun rose and my thoughts cleared, I realized that part of me, the part that didn’t feel lie writing is natural, knew that I didn’t have to write for the next few days. My creative side is wrung out a little from my recent marathon writing stint. My mind is sapped of energy thanks to late nights, early mornings, huge imagination, investment management and 24.
Creative writing is not high on the agenda for today. And you know what? That’s fine. So what if I can’t be at least remotely as productive as last week? Like I tried to illustrate in the previous post, writing means a lot to me.
It means so much that I won’t let myself lose my love for it by forcing myself to write. I write when I feel like it. Right now, the only thing I feel like writing at the moment is this post. My mind is working out what it wants me to write down next. When it’s ready, I’ll just hear my muse calling and start again.
Judging by that part of me that still wants to get down to getting on with the story, I don’t doubt that this will happen within the next week.
It’s a strange thing. The realization just hit me that right now that I don’t crave to write. I crave the euphoria I experienced. This fact is actually an exciting prospect. If I’m so euphoric after a few chapters, imagine how it will be when I finish and/or publish a book… Can’t wait.