My back hurts.
I’m saying this because I am on some really good pain meds, so if I start meandering this is why.
I’ve been outlining the fantasy series and it’s coming along nicely – unless you’re one of the characters, then you’ve had much better days. I’m gradually working on the horror novel. I got over a hard point and I might have to change a couple of scenes, but that’s going to come during the re-writes. Things are looking good for me…and no, that’s not the drugs talking.
Why do I feel like I’m a fraud?
I feel like I’m play-acting at being a writer. It’s more than the lack of sales. It’s looking at the screen and reading what I’m writing and not feeling anything. It’s not burnout, it’s ennui. I’m writing, I’m putting in the work, but the work isn’t the sweep of emotion that it was when I was trying to finish a novel just to finish it. I don’t really want to start another project – that way leads to abandoned novels (so many…so, so many…).
I’m going to just push through this little bit. I really need to finish this book and outline the fantasy novel and maybe get another project finished. One that I started, obviously.
Do other writers have to deal with this? Does Stephen King sip at his coffee early in the morning and wonders why he feels like a fraud? Does Neil Gaiman stare at a blank screen and call himself a hack? Probably not. Maybe I shouldn’t use sales as an overarching indicator of success. Maybe just focus on getting stuff done. Let my finished catalogue be the indicator.
I should take these drugs more often.
This is going to be a little short. I usually aim for five hundred words, but the pain in my back – while ebbing – is being a little distracting and I do need to get some writing done. I’ll have a little more and hopefully be a little more positive the next go round.