I promised myself I’d write a midweek post more regularly than I have been but January’s been a beast. I’ve written one and two half-stories this month and little else, which would be fine if I didn’t have several large, pterodactyl-like stories flapping around inside my head demanding to be freed. So what’s the problem?
Laziness, and that’s about it. December, fresh from NaNoWriMo, is a busy, busy month. I am not the sort of person who likes busy, so I let my writing ease off as a form of self-care and I let this happen without guilt because I worked hard in November. January is not a busy month, but my brain, sneaky as a seven-year-old trying to sneak in an extra episode of baby Yoda before bedtime, has tried to stay in self-care mode.
I realized it a few days ago. “Well, brain, best be getting some writing done.” To which my brain sighed deeply (because it has lungs for our imaginary conversations), pouted (also lips), and tried to convince me that after a long day of what-have-you, it deserved a rest and maybe an episode of the Mandalorian. Or read, yeah, we could read something.
And I fell for this, for weeks. Which has the nasty side-affect of taking away the benefits of these activities as self-care AND made my writing muscles lazy. I still wrote something everyday, but it was a paragraph, maybe two, before my brain convinced me it was tired, and would write better after some rest (which never happened). Inevitably, writing started feeling like a chore, like something I was nagging myself to do, which made me push it further and further away.
Until I realized how lazy I’d become and forced myself past that two-paragraph wall of fatigue. Just keep writing, brain. I’m in charge here.
It hurt. My brain wept. Okay, not really, that’s not physically possible. But it fought me. And then the muscles remembered. After an excruciating page I got into it. It wasn’t so bad. Maybe even pleasant. Holy crap, I forgot how fun this was! How deeply satisfying it was to edit out this passage and replace it with that one, cackling like an unstable scientist as their unholy creation zapped to life.
And then I wondered how I could have forgotten how much fun I have when I’m writing. How? Brains are tricky when they want one more episode. Hopefully, next time, I’ll remember this blog post I wrote once upon a time and I can come back here to remind myself. Feel free to do the same. In the meantime, I’ve a got a few more stories to get out of my head and onto the page.