I've survived worse than this; I just didn't like it much.
Yesterday, as the wind battered my front window with wet snow, I hunkered down on the couch with my pal Mac White and did some more editing. Yup. More.
I think I've been editing this monstrosity for about two years now, give or take five years, but who's counting, right? I honestly can't remember when I started this book. It's been since we moved to this house, so it's less than twelve years. You'd think it would be perfect by now, but I'm afraid perfection is a moving target. Once it's a real book, the author has to just kind of get on with life and try not to think about all the things that could be fixed.
I sat there, wind howling, pug snoring at my feet, thinking about how much time I've spent like this. Changing a word, taking out a sentence I don't really need. Over and over.
No wonder writers are stereotypically crazy.
AND it's still winter. It'll be winter forever. It's frickin' Narnia out there.
This is generally my worst time of year. I have been repeating over and over, for months, that I'm better this year than last year. I don't want to die or leave my husband. This is an improvement! I really don't want to to either of those things, so now when I get those thoughts, I tell myself that it's untrue, it's the depression talking. It goes like that repeatedly: one false thought followed by a truth, over and over, all day.
Oh, but I have more good news.
I know. The very thing that fuels the voices in my head helps to silence the other voices in my head. Ironic? I don't even know what IRONIC means anymore. (Thanks to Alanis and those two pirates.)
I've just about physically recovered from our trip out west, and have a head full of words now. Every time I dig into TROUBLE I do feel that it comes up just that much better. The words are just spilling out of me now, and I've been filling up my brand new Moleskine workbook with stuff I'll soon type into my computer as I work on my new book.
I'm a very weird combination of miserable and ecstatic right now. It feels kinda normal, actually. My whole life often ends up being that way.
The other things that help me are going for a walk- whether I like it or not - and getting some horse time. I haven't ridden in two weeks. I've cleaned out two different barns and gotten covered in horse hair, but soon I expect to get back in the saddle.
You know what? Honestly? I think it's more exhausting to force myself to improve, recover, have a life, than to just stay in bed. I'd love to stay in bed today. Me, the Pug, and Mac White. Snore snore, clickety click. But then I'd only be getting half the good. I gotta get up and at it. Yep. This is me, gettin' up to take the Pug for a walk. Here I go.
It's okay... now that the word tap is open wide again, it won't stop. The words can come out again later.
So there you go, Winter! I stomp on you and my dog poops on you! Ha, wait til the horses poop on you- You won't be so sparkly white anymore! nya nya na na na...