Mid Year Review

I was recently reminded that I am an author. Or was an author. I sometimes forget that I wrote books as it has been four years since I’ve pushed the PUBLISH button. It seems like a lifetime ago—and it sort of has been. Two states and two countries ago, I was an author. Am I still?

I was once excited to come home and write. So much so that I had to limit my writing to the weekends as I would forget to eat or go to bed. This is no bueno when you have a day job that pays the bills. I remember these stories eating away at me until I put pen to paper (fingers to computer keys) and purged them from my brain. It was a rush, a high, a dragon chasing expedition.

And then it wasn’t.

I didn’t wake up one day and decide not to write. Life changed. My circumstances changed. My country, state, and city changed. I changed.

It wasn’t a happy change, though. I’ve spent the last four years battling depression, anxiety, and trying to get off the prescription pills that doctors have been feeding me since I was 13 years old.  I’ve been given multiple diagnoses and seen so many psychiatrists I’ve lost count. I’ve spent four years working on Emily.

So she can say what she wants.

I’ll never be “better” or “cured” or “fixed”. I will spend the rest of my life managing my mental health. If happily ever after existed, I’d say I’m far from it. It’s hard to write a HEA when I haven’t seen the light at the end of the tunnel. I know it’s there and I’m moving closer, but it’s still pretty dim where I’m at.

I have a book story-boarded out. I have all the major parts… except the end. I know the end, more or less, but can’t envision it in my head yet. I can’t seem to write it. I can’t seem to write much of anything lately. I’m writing this blog in what I hope will be a starting point.

I might shelve the whole book and start something different. I don’t fucking know. I just know I want to write again. I want a head clear enough to find words that accurately describe my thoughts and ideas. They were once neon bright and are now muted pastels.

I vow to myself, today, July 5^th while sitting at my desk (at the office, not working) that I will attempt to say what I want in this blog. I will write what I can and give myself permission to not write a novel. I will not pressure myself with shame and guilt to produce a book that will be subpar. (God damn that shame and guilt. They are some nasty bitches.) I will put this out there to the universe and anyone who might be reading this as a means to hold myself accountable.

I already know what I want to write about next. The Magicians on the SyFy network. I’ve been freaking obsessed. Just finished season three. I love love love a good quest. I’m about to pay for season 4 on Amazon, and I’m really fucking cheap so this is a big deal. Netflix only goes up to season 3.

Stay tuned.