Poetry is something I’ve dabbled with time and again. Unlike my writing, my poetry has always been for me. A chance to open up myself, to myself, and let the tumultuous feelings flow. I think it’s no fluke that most of my writing came about in those years in-between youth and adult, when emotions are sky high.
It’s also no fluke that I thought of poetry as I continue to struggle with my creative depression. I opened up a blank word document and just wrote. When I write poetry it flows from my heart to the page, with little cranial activity. I don’t edit my poems, most of the time. They survive in the rough form.
What did my creative depression bring out of me? This poem:
Snakes through the light
Covers, cumbersome, devouring.
Leaving me drowning
Fading from sight
Alone, aloof, always by choice
Unable to open
To let others in
Drowning, drowning, drowning.
The darkness takes hold
I fight back
Weak punches enshrouded in the black.
I push up
I push out
Struggling toward the light.
Yet am held back.
By something, by something.
Lately I have found myself in a bit of a funk. I hesitate to use the word depression, because it is a big, heavy, loaded word. But if I am honest that is more than likely the correct word. This isn’t a new place for me, I have been here before. This is the first time I have been here while actively writing.
Writing has filled a hole in me. It is a passion, a need, a love. It is part of my soul. When writing my world makes sense. A good writing session can make a bad day turn great and lift me up inside.
So it’s especially odd to be in a funk right now. I have finished a good round of editing on Choice and Consequence, which should have me singing. Instead I feel drowned.
The only answer I have for my current emotional struggle is the juggle. The juggle of having my attention pulled toward several different projects at once. As I write and edit I am also marketing and querying. I have several beta reads in the works for other writers and try to keep in touch with the world at large. The funk seems to be my minds way of telling me it’s too much.
So I stepped back. Revised plans. Buried myself in a fun read. Spent time with the family.
And the funk lingers. I know it’s related to my passion, my writing. I force myself through, not letting it get the best of me. And in small moments the funk goes away while working.
But it comes back. It hovers. Is it self-doubt? Is it the overwhelming juggle? Is it clinical? All hard to answer.
I will keep moving forward, keep my passion growing. Keep searching for the spark that rids the cloud. Answers may come, or they may not. Life doesn’t have the same tidy endings that my novels do.
If I get quiet here, you’ll know why.
Life many of us, life has been overwhelming as of late. So much to do, too much to do, really. My brain running in twenty different directions at the same time, trust me, it’s not productive.
I took a break, spent the weekend deep in a book (or two). There is nothing like letting go, of everything, and indulging in a little pampering.
Sometimes we only have a few minutes, other times we can take that needed weekend. Regardless, that is one reason I love to read, love to write. To create an escape, an enjoyable interlude from reality, even for five minutes at a time.
The only downside, as far as I can see, is wanting to stay in that fantasy world for a little longer.
And with that, I’m going back to reading!
Editing is the soul sucking part of writing. Having to cut sections can be excruciating. As the writer, all sections are our babies. We wrote it for a reason. Maybe in the end the story doesn’t need that section, but there is still a desire to share with the world.
Those first cuts are painful, and often lead to blurry vision:
Then time passes and the writer becomes removed from the story. Those little darlings are now pesky toddlers. The sections present themselves as they are: not needed. Now the eyes stay dry as the writer highlights, deletes, and breathes a sigh of relief! (Please note, I end up with about twenty versions of the same story, so while the section is deleted in the newest version, it still lives somewhere on my laptop, more than likely in several different locations. Public Service Announcement for writers: please don’t delete without backing up!)
I’ve been on a deleting frenzy for Choice and Consequence, and rightfully so, this novel is bloated. About 10,000 words have met my axe, and more flagged to go.
The end result will be a tight story. And I must admit, it’s damn fun to cut when the second stage comes around. I’m itching for more to give the axe to!