It’s easy to talk about the fullness that feelings can bring, an endless amount of inspired words. It’s harder to talk about the vacuum of emotions that inevitably happens after the fullness is gone. Makes sense, right? These changes in feelings aren’t too unlike becoming fat in the belly from a larger than was necessary dinner and then shitting your brains out several days later. Writing about this feeling isn’t normal for me, it almost didn’t happen and I’m still not committed to the idea that this string of thoughts will actually get posted.
Writing about this feeling isn’t normal for me, it almost didn’t happen and I’m still not committed to the idea that this string of thoughts will actually get posted. What usually happens is that a month or two passes without me writing anything and then I look back and question why it’s been so long since I’ve written. Maybe this is my attempt to get the river flowing before the melt is in. To what end? I do not know. The vacuum sucks.
My boss let me borrow the signed copy of my book that I gave her. You might think it’s weird to have a copy of your own book starring up at you 10 hours a day, but it’s actually comforting in an odd way. I put weeks and days and hours into a goal that turned into a book that’s sitting on my desk. A book that wants company but also doesn’t want to pressure me into something that I’m not ready for. It knows that forcing someone to create a thing that they are not ready to create is a recipe for spoiled stew. The existence of that book tells me that I can write another story if I want to, the non-existence of a second book tells me that I must not want to.
How did a post about not having any emotions to motivate my writing turn into a post about possibly writing another book? The downside of emotional roller coaster is an entertaining place, isn’t it?