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Things and stuff
Nov. 4th, 2014 01:45 amI have officially done Awesome Shit writingwise in the past three days. I am doing NaNoWriMo using three separate projects; Project A is a blogged autobiography thing, Project B is stories for Yuletide (assigned and treats), and Project C is miscellaneous other writing. Between the three of them I have gotten 5000 words so far, writing three out of three days. And better yet, I have actually written *and finished* two Yuletide treats, one posted to the archive already (fourth story in the collection lol) and the other too short to post yet but it's ready to go once the Madness archives open. And I have noted on my assignment, and fragments written of three other treats, as well as a list of like 35 more possibilities based on letters.
Let me re-emphasize this: I have *written and finished* two stories in the last three days.
I don't want to jinx anything, but starting with the poem I wrote a week or so ago? Not only has my creativity come back, but I even like what I'm producing. (Which is big, because the last few years, writing anything has been like pulling teeth, squeaked out reluctantly as close to deadline as possible and I've hated the end result.).
I very strongly suspect that this resurgence of creativity is not coincidental to the drug that I'm going off of (with psychdoc approval, don't worry). And if I can get my writing back -- if I can write, and have fun with it, and get stories out in a way that flows and feels good -- it is hella worth the fact that going off said drug is also giving me rebound insomnia.
Which is why I'm posting at 1:30am. Because hi, I'm pretty awake.
I am also having seriously ping-pongy mood swings in the last few days. Bouncing from "yay everything is awesome" to "I am a horrible person and woe and gloom" is ... quite frankly, exhausting. But I guess it's progress over constant copelessness.
It does, though, feel astonishingly vulnerable. Like the miasma of constant depression was somehow an armor or shell or something, and opening up more exposes my squishy innards.
Let me re-emphasize this: I have *written and finished* two stories in the last three days.
I don't want to jinx anything, but starting with the poem I wrote a week or so ago? Not only has my creativity come back, but I even like what I'm producing. (Which is big, because the last few years, writing anything has been like pulling teeth, squeaked out reluctantly as close to deadline as possible and I've hated the end result.).
I very strongly suspect that this resurgence of creativity is not coincidental to the drug that I'm going off of (with psychdoc approval, don't worry). And if I can get my writing back -- if I can write, and have fun with it, and get stories out in a way that flows and feels good -- it is hella worth the fact that going off said drug is also giving me rebound insomnia.
Which is why I'm posting at 1:30am. Because hi, I'm pretty awake.
I am also having seriously ping-pongy mood swings in the last few days. Bouncing from "yay everything is awesome" to "I am a horrible person and woe and gloom" is ... quite frankly, exhausting. But I guess it's progress over constant copelessness.
It does, though, feel astonishingly vulnerable. Like the miasma of constant depression was somehow an armor or shell or something, and opening up more exposes my squishy innards.