Well, I feel kind of done with sitting on the couch watching reruns of Law & Order: Criminal Intent and feeling adrift in the world. I’m going to vow to spend the rest of July not moaning about how I can’t do this, but getting used to doing it.
I mean, it’s not like I was going out every night before or something. But, ha, I guess there’s a difference between “Eh, I’d rather not” and “No, I can’t.”
I think part of the problem, too, is just that I feel like I’m spinning my wheels while everyone else is moving ahead. Here it is, July, and my efforts to sell any fiction this year have come to shit. Project X is taking a long time to come together. I’m feeling like switching narrators fixed a ton of problems with Ben & Sue but I’m still not sure about the end so I find myself writing up to the point where I just don’t fucking know, finding I don’t like what I’ve written, and erasing it.
And then it’s like, so what if I finish it? No one wants my shit.
I need a degree of reckless optimism that I just don’t have at the moment. It’s funny, really. My biggest fucking obstacle is always me. I am, constantly, the dead weight I drag behind me.
It makes me jealous of people who feel like one coherent self all the time. I normally do, but not enough that I can pretend that it’s not an illusion. Most of the time, I’m painfully aware that the person setting the agenda and the person undermining the agenda are both me.
Still, I could use something moving a little in a positive fashion.