As with so many other times in my life, I find myself again at my writing desk. Also, again, I find myself attempting to write with many fits and starts. That seems to be my lot in life, writing between fits of depression and starts of anxiety. Progressing only so far before the spectre of Imposter Syndrome makes its presence known, and in a bout of self-doubt, I chuck the whole of whatever it was I was working on. Such is the life of trying to be a creative person and living with mental illness that seems to be springing from a taproot of self-destruction. At least in creativity.
I am trying to return to one of the projects I haven’t deleted. A fantasy story that I’ve “started” more than once. I have to admit to myself the thing doesn’t have to be perfect or even reasonably good. After all, that is the whole purpose of a second draft, and the editing process is for. But knowing this as fact and internalizing it as a belief are two entirely separate things.
One positive that has come out of this, I’m reading as much as I ever have. What I’ve been reading is varied as well. Add to that my penchant for reading more than one book at a time has also returned. At this moment that consists of: Spellmaker a magical fantasy by Charlie M. Holmberg set in Victorian England; a reread of The Great Gatsby, the great American tragedy by F. Scott Fitzgerald as well as my morning foray into tech magazines before I get ready for my at times skull-numbing factory job.
I’m writing this to spur myself onto writing again with a goal of returning to writing at least something every day. Maybe even a way to combat my mental illness. Perhaps if I can keep my mind pointed in a positive direction, having something that I can look forward to every day will keep me in a better mental state.
Now for the hard part: Execution of the idea.