Well here we are… (beware frustration)

And what have I done? To be honest it feels like nothing. On average I’m writing 300 words a week if even that. Updating my blog isn’t even on the radar. Even though I want to, I really want to. It’s May. Last time I updated my blog was January.

I looked at my goals for the year yesterday. Almost all of them are writing-related. And what am I doing? I’m either dealing with the stupid health issues or working. There isn’t much energy for else. And most of the time I don’t even feel guilty. I’m doing the best with what I’ve been given. And you know what? I have less than twenty working days until the summer. And during the summer I will collect myself, get my body to work again properly and have so much time to write. Before then all I can do is bide my time.

So I’ll probably not write anything here until the middle of June, but luckily it’s not far away. In the meantime I can start thinking about what I actually want to blog about.

Before I graduated, the idea of my blog was short stories. And it kind of works (except the mess that is “Never break a leg before christmas”, I know I haven’t finished it and honestly I will) except during school weeks when lesson plans take up a lot of my creativity and energy. Whatevers left I want to give to novels or novellas. So what can I blog about? What do people blog about? I don’t have that much writing experience, I mean, I do but not if you compare to other bloggers. Especially not this dreadful year. I have very little experience with self-publishing. What can I write about then? Teaching. I have experienced with violent kids, kids with dyslexia, kids with ADHD, unhelpful parents. I can talk about being rootless, of not living in a place more than four years all my life. I guess I can talk about boats. And nature. I can talk about stress and guilt. Of putting on music and dancing around to it. What else is there to me?

IMG_20170501_184516My mum gave me this light. It runs on cooking oil, how cool is that?

Analysis Paralysis

Writer’s block has hit me hard and in a way it never has before. I’ve spent the past two weeks feeling absolutely frustrated with myself and the world. Why can’t I write? Why can’t I even think of something to write? I thought I had an idea but I feel dissuaded. By myself mostly. There is so much I don’t know, so much I can’t do, so many reasons why my idea is a bad idea. What stories do I have to tell? What stories do I have to tell that haven’t been told a million times before?

So I tried to revise, write short stories, finish short stories, do anything that has to do with writing but not my new novel and I just can’t. I can’t focus. I can’t even start focusing. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I think that writing was ever a good idea, then people will expect you to write. To deliver. When I wish I could just stop.

And then there is the absolute compulsion to write, weighing me down. The character screaming in my head needing to come out, out, out, but I don’t have a story for her. Not even a world. I don’t know where to put her.

What to do…