A Wondering We Will Go

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering of late, wondering where I will be this time next year, wondering if I will ever finish editing and writing the various projects I have going on at present. Wondering about different story arcs, characters, plots, cultures, history, landscapes etc. With all this wondering it is amazing I have gotten anything done… Well in truth I don’t think I have. It is like I reached this point that my brain just said “nope” recently and it’s been tough to find me again. I seem to always be juggling lots of things at once, but then when I decide to stop the myriad of things I have on the go and just breathe (like over the festive period) I find it very difficult to get going again.

I don’t know if it is because I am getting older, but I feel less tolerant of things that annoy me, even aspects of myself that annoy me and I regularly find I am shouting at myself sometimes inwardly, sometimes out loud. The loudest one being “Why are you not writing?” “Pick up that pen and paper and get scribbling, that novel is not going to write itself” This generally turns into a major rant about life being too short etc etc and “at this rate you will be an old maid with a half finished novel that had the potential to be something and you left it gathering dust for years until you could no longer hold a pen or hold a conversation with anyone else but a pot plant because your brain is too addled to do anything else”  But these rants at myself still don’t seem to do the trick apart from I end up not even speaking to myself and just more irritated at my inaction.

But what is stopping me? “I don’t know” is the simple answer. Am I so afraid that what I write wouldn’t be good enough that some internal defense mechanism kicks in and makes excuses? leading me down that procrastination lane I seem to love so much. Is it that I feel like I have lost faith in myself to the point that I wonder what is the point of writing anything down, because who cares? Which in turn leads to another shouting match at myself for being so melancholy and down in the dumps and that whole “the world does not revolve around you” conversation. I guess my psyche took more of a battering than I thought last year and if truth be told I am having to have some stern words with myself to drag myself back up to normal.  Maybe I am spending too much time wondering about the what ifs and should remind myself why I am doing these things. I need to listen more to my heart and just go with it. Silence the critic in me, take a deep breath and wander down a new path. There are so many untold stories within me, so much more to wonder about. It’s time to shake off this dark shroud I seem to have wrapped myself in and get back to what I love to do. So let’s stoke the embers once more and see what sparks..with that being said I think I see Bob heading in my direction with a poker…