I have set another fifteen minute timer for me to type up this entry. I am honestly at a loss for what to write today. It is a cold, wet, and gloomy day outside. I've seen a female cardinal at the yellow bird feeder hanging across from the window. I can't really hear the bird song right now. I'm listening to medieval music on the music streaming service through my internet connection.
I feel that I am completely stalled on my serial stories. Halthor was supposed to destroy the lich and then have a few more moderately amusing adventures with Freystein before going on to the next leg of his journey. I'm just at a loss for what to write. I'm trying to figure out how to make the elf-dog more of a character but I'm stumped as well. Elwis doesn't exactly speak to Halthor. I don't know if I did the right thing leaving the pony behind with the Blue Lady. Halthor still has a lot of ground to cover. I don't know if it will get boring to have him trek along ala LOTR style for the remainder of the trip.
Al-Uzza was supposed to be the bad guy in the present arc of Dacia's War. She's a scheming mess who wants to be at the top of the heap because she thinks that's where the prestige is. Al-Uzza is little more than a bully. I want people to loathe her as much as they loathed Delores Umbridge. I'm finding it hard to write her that way, because I can't get past my disgust with her attitudes to write about them. Maybe I should just write a character sketch and really get everything about this despicable character out on paper before I write the next installment.
I am stuck on book seven. I'm really stuck and I feel like everything I have written is garbage. I can't manage to bring it to a conclusion and everything I add on to try to get to that place is frustrating me. I have seven books written. For some stupid reason, I can't finish the seventh book but I can't bear to put a To Be Continued into this present scene. The whole thing feels contrived and deus ex machina. Beloved suggested that I am in need of a break from the project. Hence the camp NaNoWriMo thing I'm working on.
I kinda hate my camp project. Some of it is because I am not anywhere near done and I have less than a week to hit word count. It would be easier if I were typing, I suppose, but I am doing this by hand to see just how damn many words I can get out of a single mechanical pencil. I was going to update daily with word count and pencil status, as well as how long I've been writing. Yesterday I think I wrote somewhere around two and a half hours but my log only has thirty minutes written down. This always happens when I try to log my writing habits. I want to get a picture of how long it takes me to get a decent amount of material done and track the influence of my disability on my productivity. But when I get depressed I stop writing all together and I have my tracking get thrown way off course by my mixed episodes because I will just forget to log things.
Believe me, it makes keeping a daily bullet journal/planner challenging. Going for weeks with out entries and then playing catch up and attempting to recreate from what few clues I left myself what was going on in my brain during those few weeks is really rough. I just wish that I could have a better brain. I wish I was the person I was before the bipolar came into my life. I was healthier and happier then. I wasn't so damn afraid that everything I write or create was going to bring disaster.
I blame the terrible events that happened when I asked for help. I still don't know how to process that and it's been almost a decade. Mostly, I try to live like it didn't happen. But it's effect is powerful because I've become more social phobic and I'm developing agoraphobic issues. I should probably find a therapist and work through this shit but no body takes my insurance. And the one place where I was going was where that disaster got kicked into gear so I'm not going back even if someone dragged me there.
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