Consumed By Life

I’m at a weird time right now. I spent November unemployed for the seventh consecutive month and threw my energy into writing a novel for Nanowrimo. I was living and breathing writing and my story and figuring out the whole big mess. I was even dreaming in science fiction for the last week or so of the month. It was fantastic.

Then December came, I finished my novel on time, celebrated the news that one of my stories was accepted for publishing by an anthology, took a break for a day or two, and then dove into working on another short story I was really excited about. Everything seemed great, like I’d finally unlocked the secret door in my mind to continually push myself to write and create and do all these things I want to do without letting fear or procrastination or life get in the way.

Then life got in the way.

Someone hired me for a great little day job, with a fun bunch of people for a company I really respect. Now I spend 3 days a week doing that plus some freelance work here and there, and oh look, another part-time job on the horizon. Fantastic. Time for training. Oh, and holidays are coming? Throw that in too.

Life got in the way. I come home exhausted. My days off quickly fill up with other obligations (I hate whoever invented the holidays). That spark of creativity, the inspiring whispers of the muse–they’ve all been muddled and trampled into non-existence, leaving behind this nagging guilt that I’m not doing the things I want to be doing.

I have no good excuses. There are no good excuses. Hell even writing this post right now is a way to procrastinate working on my story. But maybe it’s a step in the right direction…

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