I want to cry right now. I want to do NaNoWriMo but I have no ideas. I just have this mishmash of trauma memories and this ache in the bottom of my heart because Liz D. isn't here to chat with anymore about this stuff. NaNoWriMo was a thing she and I kinda did together. It was an escape from the stress of life and a chance to work on my epic series with out feeling guilty.
For the last two years, NaNoWriMo and Camp NaNoWriMo have been word vomit of trauma from my youth. I can't see a good way to finish book seven and I need to complete book seven before I start work on book eight. I am so upset right now that I have tears streaming down my face for no apparent reason. I'm afraid that my thirty book series is done at six and three quarters because all I can manage to write right now is about how awful my childhood was.
It shows up just about everywhere. So, the simple logic is write about it until it stops haunting me. Kinda like I would with any other plot-bunny. The more I write, the more comes up to the surface. This is a bad time of year for me because I have flashbacks to trauma and seasonal affective disorder. I haven't slept well in about a week.
I just feel like I am broken and that there is no hope for me. I know this is my depression talking. I know this is my pain talking. It doesn't change the feeling that there is no point to attempting something that I was looking forward to all year.
No comments:
Post a Comment