November means NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month is underway.
I’ve been low on creativity. It’s almost like being impotent this wanting to “get it up” but not being able to find the desire to write. So, my usual excitement surrounding NaNo is absent and it’s unsettling.
My story feels forced and boring. I’m behind and I’m not sure I possess the drive to get caught up. Even my need to write shorts is quiet. I am definitely not myself.
Most of this comes from my mind being preoccupied with worry. I alluded to a mistake in trusting someone a few posts ago and I’ve been battling some stress (brought on by worrying) induced symptoms. I’m not being intentionally evasive by not saying what’s bothering me, but it stems from being embarrassed at the mistake itself and worrying about the consequences (I’m hoping for good results by the end of the week. In more ways than one). If you know me, you know I worry to the extreme. It can’t be simple. No, I fret about worst case scenarios.
I freak myself out to the point that I’m pretty sure I have an ulcer right now.
Anyway, I’m on the verge of abandoning NaNo. If something doesn’t change, if I don’t find some much needed motivation, I’m afraid this will be the first year I don’t finish.
So here’s to finding the desire to write and the realization (and truth) that things will turn out okay. My poor stomach can’t take much more.
Nothing sexy to see here, folks. Move along.