For the sake of honesty and so you are aware of the fate that you narrowly escaped, I had written out a rather whiny, self-indulgent post about how I am neither writing nor applying for jobs due to some twisted logic that I have to choose between them and until I have I can’t do either. Well, that and fear (of rejection and failure, mainly.) But that’s not what Mondays are about. Mondays are about the novel. So let’s get to it.
I broke the habit. Since…Thursday, I think, I haven’t done anything to my novel. But that is going to change. Today, I will being the habit again. Today, I will work on the novel. And the next day. And the next day.
Even as I write this, I can hear the doubts whispering in my head. You know the sort of thing they say, we all do:
There’s no point. You’ll never be a writer. You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough. Just give up now and save yourself some time. You need a job, not another plan of that thing you call a novel. You’ll never make it a good novel. You don’t have it in you. You have neither the talent nor the dedication. You’re too lazy.
To be honest, I’ve been struggling not to listen to them lately. Truth is, I think they’re right. This is sounding worryingly like the last post I wrote. Whiny post it is, then. So be it.
But if I choose to believe them, what then? Do I stop writing the novel? Do I pretend I never thought of it? Just let go? There have been others. Others I’ve started but never finished. But the thing is, I haven’t forgotten them. I haven’t really let go. I still think I will finish them. One day. And maybe I will.
And where’s the harm in persevering? In writing this novel? A waste of time, they say, but when I was writing every day, I only wrote when I’d done what else needed doing – applied to the jobs, and only for a short time – half an hour, maybe. I waste hours in the internet. Today, for example, I opened up my laptop to start working at 11am. It’s 3:37pm, now, and what have I done? Checked my emails. Read my google reader articles. Googled stuff. Rewrote this blog post several times. (The time when I first wrote ‘it’s … now’ was 2:20pm.) That’s a waste of time. (Or is it? I think I’m having some kind of mid-twenties ‘crisis’ and this is my way of working through it. I know what the result will be: keep applying, keep writing but I’m struggling to convince myself. I’m such an over-thinker. And I’m struggling to get back to the point of this blog post. Can you tell?)
OK. We all know how this blog post is supposed to end. I defeat the whispering doubts and pledge to continue working on my novel. Not only that, I also decide to restart the daily writing habit, today. Despite the fact that I really should apply for that job, today, and it’s my boyfriend’s birthday so I have until he gets home to do both (which will be in an hour and a half, maybe two hours if I’m lucky.) So basically, it’s not going to happen. Especially if I keep whining about it rather than actually doing it but I really feel I need to resolve this whatever-is-going-on-with-me before I can move on. Or maybe I can’t. Maybe it’s unresolvable. Maybe the only solution is to ignore it and keep going.
Apologies for this messy muddled mess. My brain is confused. No idea what I’m going to do now. Eat a bar of chocolate. Probably.