For the past few months I’ve been attempting morning pages as recommended in The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I’ve had the book for years and followed the guidelines to enhance creativity for some time. Then I stopped and just recently went back to it. The free flow writing that constitutes the three daily morning pages are supposed to be done upon first awakening before the negativity can creep into your thoughts. But many days I get up at 4 a.m. for work, so I’m not getting up at 3:30 to do morning pages. I do them when I get home or in the evening. And I don’t even follow the guidelines. They aren’t supposed to be a diary or a journal, but sometimes that’s what they are. Want to see how I’m doing? Here’s today’s (written late morning after I got home from work):
Just dropped mouse on floor AGAIN. Batteries came out. It’s so annoying. I can never remember how the batteries go in. I do it wrong and have to start over. (Author’s note: for once I did it correctly the first time.) As a I sat and played Spider Solitaire (Author’s note: because I gave up Cookie Jam and Bejeweled Blitz so I’d be more productive…) while watching TV again last night it occurred to me that I’ve lost my belief that my writing will ever amount to anything. It’s a big investment for 12 people to read one of my books once I get it published. What’s the point? I always come back to that. What’s the point?
I “made” more money than I ever have from writing in 2016 but I had way more expenses than income. And the money I made was from ghostwriting so I won’t ever get credit for it. So I just haven’t been writing at all. I think about writing and the stories I have in progress. But I haven’t written in more than a week except to jot down ideas about how to create more conflict and “dig deeper.” I’m not even sure I’m doing that. It all just seems a bit muddled.
And there’s no deadline. Nobody anxiously awaiting another Barbara Meyers book. No one who cares or is interested. So. Do I stop writing or just stop publishing? “Market.” Just the word makes me cringe. I had all these marketing ideas. Didn’t I? Even Cynthia didn’t want to be involved.
I’m just a loser. So insignificant no one even knows I’m here. I’m invisible and everything I do just seems dumb. And pointless.
Newsletter. Ugh. Twitter. Ugh. Give away free stuff. Why should I have to do that. You don’t want to read my books? Fine. Go ahead and keep reading all the free ones. Some are probably quite good. I just haven’t come across any. Maybe I should take all those boxes of unpublished half-finished manuscripts from under the bed and burn them. That’d be a bonfire!
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