Because if I didn’t, I’d die.
Sound like an over-exaggeration? Nah, it’s not, really. A writer HAS to write, like a bird has to fly or a fish has to swim. It’s as normal and comfortable and unconscious as breathing.
I’m introspective lately. Against my wishes, my fiance went looking for houses, and he found our dream home. We were in no way ready for this–he’s completely out of commission for a loan, which leaves it all on me. With my bad credit history, I’m having to jump through hoops like a trained circus monkey to even get to a place where the bank can look at me and POSSIBLY give me pre-approval.
I’m also anxiously awaiting word from the higher ups at my place of employment. I applied for a transfer to another position–one that would get me OFF third shift (which is slowly destroying my body). It’s been several weeks since I applied. I’m beginning to lose hope that I’ll get the position, and I can’t even begin to write how devastating that is to me.
I’ve been reading a book lately on this syndrome called “Adrenal Fatigue”. It isn’t recognized by modern medicine, basically because they can’t make any money off it. You can cure adrenal fatigue simply by stepping away from the stress in your life and taking herbal supplements to help your adrenal glands regulate. I show nearly EVERY symptom, which is awesome because I was honest-to-goodness starting to think I was clinically depressed.
I have a lot of sources of stress in my life that have led up to this failing in my health, the main being my job. Third shift is hard on the body. You’re unable to handle things as easily as someone who lives on a normal daytime schedule. Your adrenals don’t regulate the way they should, so stress basically just sticks around and depletes you when in a normal person, sleeping at night helps recharge you. Yet, I need the paycheck! Especially if I want this house. My formatting business was more than I could handle, which is why I’ve stopped taking new clients–my first step towards health. But, if I can’t get out of third shift, I’m stuck.
I know it may be silly, but I feel like if I could just be lucky enough to be granted this new position at work AND be granted the opportunity to own this house–my ultimate dream home–then maybe my luck will change. Maybe I’ll be healthy again, maybe I’ll be as productive at the things I care about, like writing.
In the midst of phone calls, letter writing, and googling for the house, I’m also drowning in my own projects that aren’t getting done. Rewrites on The House–so close to being finished, yet so far away. Edits on Abigail–not close to being finished at ALL, and the book is apparently bad enough to get several returns a month. I should just unpublish it, but I feel like that’s just giving up. Sigh. I’m also supposed to be co-writing a YA book with my friend Tara West, but I’m only squeezing in a few words here and there in between my insane life. And of course, I’ve got a long list of future projects languishing because I have no time to do them–sequel to Abigail, sequel to Temple, next YA novel, etc. etc. etc. When does life get easier? I wish I was one of the lucky ones who could write full time.
At this point, I guess I would be happy if I could just be healthy again.
I actually did a formatting post on my CyberWitch site: Print vs. Digital – Understanding the Flow of Text That’s productive, right?
I just added a disclaimer to the sidebar that if you subscribe to my blog, you aren’t gonna get anything worthwhile, LOL. This blog has always been my sounding board for rants or sharing stuff I like/dislike. Like an online journal, really. And I officially refuse to change my ways just because all the publishing gurus say you should be a blogger with true content to draw people. If I ever have fans, they’ll probably care about ME not writing or crap. SO, if you’re already a subscriber and you don’t care about personal stuff, you should unsubscribe. Fair warning