For the Good of All of Us Except the Ones Who Are Dead

I think we're finally through the looking glass here. Past the grief and despair and helplessness that's been choking the life out of me for the past few weeks. What did it take? Disaster.

Last night, I went to write my novel and I just couldn't do it. Couldn't even write some drivel. Couldn't even pound at the keyboard. I was paralyzed with apathy. It didn't matter, wouldn't matter, couldn't matter. My story was stupid and awful and it was never going to work and I shouldn't even bother. And, so, that's how I broke my promise to work on my book at least once a day, every day, until the month was done.

I felt awful about it last night as I slipped underneath the covers. Felt like a weak and incompetent ass as this day wore on. My mood has matched the weather lately. Cold and bleak, dark too early, with the occasional driving rain. But determined not to waste this day as I have so many before, I sat down to write today. To hack out some posts and my feelings before I tried to make up for lost time with my book. And you know what? I don't feel so bad anymore. I feel refreshed, actually, now that my obligation to myself has lapsed. Freed from the concern of having to write. Now I want to write. Want to get back on track, even.

I don't think I am - don't think I'll ever be - completely over the pain I've been feeling but I'm ready to move on. It's not going to be easy but it's about time.

It's a good time to pull myself out of the tailspin, too. Because not only are we heading into the second week of NaNo. We're also heading into the final week of this blog's first year. That's right, in a mere seven days it'll have been one whole year since I flipped on the light switch around here. One thousand plus posts on, some ups and some downs, but I'm still here and I'm still hacking away. That's not nothing. That's something. And something that's not nothing is where it all begins.

I guess I should have something ready for the 12th, huh?