I'm manic. I told you that, right?
Right now I'm wound tight and stretched thin. Almost see-through. I have approximately 35 things on my mind right now. And they are all high-stress. I have worries about my books which are contracted. I have worries about my manuscripts in progress. Not enough paycheck at the end of the week. The chickens are driving me stupid. Why are they always louder INSIDE than outside? I have yet to figure that one out. When I wake up in the morning, it's not with that rested "I just slept" feeling. Nope. I wake up tireder than when I went to bed. This seems rather twisted.
Do you ever just PRAY for a padded cell? You know...a quiet place. Soundproof. Comfy. Sans the straitjacket.
I read a blog entry about Mama guilt. And I couldn't agree more. We let the guilt run our lives because we can't be everywhere, doing everything, for everyone.
I think this is part of my problem. I've become one huge ball of taking care of others. I haven't truly relaxed in I don't know how long.
I'm working non-stop on the internet to find avenues for revenue for my books. I try to keep up with my e-mails. I'm searching for Agents and Publishers and whatnot. And I've become lost. Not the good kind. Not the "I'm enjoying the sunshine" lost. Nope. The other kind. I think I just let myself slip through the cracks.
I need to refocus. I've been making myself stick to a certain schedule as far as what I'm writing. I believe I'll just go with the flow and check that out for awhile. If another story comes easier, then I believe I'll just type on that one. I'll go WITH THE GRAIN. I've been going against it, and I'm nothing but bruised. I'm a big believer in knowing myself and what I'm capable of accomplishing. Different strokes. Now I just need to find my rhythm again.
3 months ago