I woke up today full of leftover ennui from Wednesday. I don’t know why. I wrote for three days this week, solid chunks of two to five hours writing. That’s what I said I was going to do, wasn’t it? I said I was going to enjoy these few months of paid vacation to write like hell and place my faith in the future, right?
On Wednesday, I wanted to take it all back. Nevermind that I’d just done what I said I was going to do. I felt like I hated it, hated every minute of slow and tedious creation and self-reliance. Thursday gave me a break with a slew of errands that couldn’t wait any longer and Biscuit’s lasik surgery to get him home from, plus dinner with friends in Chinatown. Thursday was a respite with things to do, to accomplish, outside the house.
Today, the crushing ennui and self-doubt, she is back for a special Friday appearance. I woke up with a house that needs some tending – nothing serious, dishes to do and clothes to put away. I had a light breakfast and stared at the new picture frames we ordered and realized they’re all wrong, too many 2×3 openings and we don’t have enough small pictures and talk about transferring emotions, but suddenly the effort to get those three picture frames filled and hung was like everything in my life – too complicated, too self-reliant, too creative.
I wasn’t planning on filling and hanging the goddamned picture-frames today anyway. It was just the act of evaluating them that made me want to crawl into bed and sleep for another twelve hours. It’s when I want to go bed right after I’ve woken up that I know I’m in trouble. Sleep is my ostrich-in-the-sand tactic.
Why do I want to do this to myself? Why did I agree with myself a few weeks (months?) ago on this crazy scheme? Why don’t I just drop all this bullshit and go study to become a librarian so I can always have a job, sweet merciful employment complete with someone else telling me what to do? WHY?
Can I just give up and say nevermind, I don’t want to be a writer, UNCLE. Can I fold? No, see, I can’t fold. Because I’ve got all this pride that keeps me from folding, which is probably a good thing but I hate it right now, and I hate that I know what I have to do, which is be productive through the maelstorm of ennui and negativity and self-doubt. I have to keep saying to myself (and other concerned parties) that yes, I’m unemployed, and no, that’s not the end of the world, and yes, I’m writing every day instead of working for someone else.
It’d help a little if I believed that was the best thing to do. It’d help if I didn’t feel like I was letting everyone and myself down by switching gears this abruptly. It’d help if squeezing words out every day felt more satisfying than this, if they really erased the questions and the ostrich impulse.
I guess it’d help if I knew where this was taking me.
addendum: because I love all of you and don’t want anyone to worry needlessly (especially those of you related to me), I figured I’d let you know I’m dragging this laptop and this brain to the Rose Reading Room and seeing if all the marble and intellect can calm my worried mind enough for those good rare words to slip out onto the page. Also, it gets me away from this apartment that I adore too much to pace around with this foul humor. All Big Questions will just have to wait.
Nobody knows where anything is taking them. But then, you know that.
Hi Krissa. I think you are looking at this whole thing in a too “all or nothing” kind of way. I mean, I would go absolutely nuts if I had all that free time and had to use it to write. Talk about pressure! It *seems* like no pressure, “Oh I have all the time in the world, la dee da,” but you only have x amount of months. Plus, the days go by and you think, “I should be writing now instead of doing x.” So it’s a weird vacuum of time for you. Maybe you would write more if you had a part time jobby-job, who knows? Why does it have to be so black-and-white? And I want to add, YOU. ARE. A. WRITER. Even if it doesn’t become a career or a life for you, you are.
p.s. Love your blog, love the writing – love the leftover ennui.
Hi Crissa
I’ve been lurking on your blogg for the longest time.
But today you hit my feeling exactly.
You see I’m writing a PhD – supposed to be writing up a the moment. Not good, I’m afraid.
Today I decided to take my self out of the office situation and am working from home where no one can see me pull at my hair or hear my rant.
I constantly remind my self why I wanted this – yet the logic is very weak against the feeling of just wanting to get back in to bed.
Not sure reading this comment is going to make you feel much better though
You sound like me. I think when you do something creative the rules of a 9-5 job get thrown out the window. I am also in a creative field and I’ve slowly been learning from my peers that you need to be in a good space to produce something worthwhile and you can’t get worked up about how long it takes to produce something b/c in the end it’s about quality. It can be a nasty cycle of not producing and then freaking out and getting worked up… and repeat. Napping and walking around the city and whatever other sources of inpsiration you may have are key and key in making the whole thing really fun (easier said than done). The whole ‘cultivating your garden’ thing. You quickly learn a lot about yourself, which I’m sure you have. Anyway, I hope you don’t mind the completely unsolicited advice. You’re a great writer and I enjoy your blog immensely. I know you’ll kick ass in your endeavors.
You are made to write and shouldn’t be in a 9 to 5 job. Think of all of us out here who are waiting for you to tell us another good story. It just takes practice, and part of that is practice pushing through those times when the sentence isn’t working or you can’t find that one word that says exactly what you want to say. Move on and come back to it. You’ll catch it the second or third time through. It’s all rough draft right now, so don’t be afraid to send it to friends or writers you trust for feedback. That’s what hemingway, gogol, capote, fitzgerald, faulkner, and all the rest of them did. You’ll see where this is taking you when you get to the end. That’s how all great stories work. Good luck.
oh, chin up babe.
your writing does and always has kicked much arse. it will not always be fun and easy but damn it makes it so much more worth it.
i was inspired to dribble this out because your situation seemed too much like mine, right down to the sleep as avoidance ploy. hence, i will take my own good advice and get back to the (actual) drawing board
heads down.
I second that notion. Even if you were still slogging away for someone else everyday you wouldn’t know what was coming or what good you’d be getting from it in the future.
I’m a writer too and it’s hard to recognize all the time, but the process is supposed to give us the fulfillment we need.
Don’t get discouraged. The change of scenery should do you good.