The Big Sad Writing Hiatus

More like burnout mixed with existential dread holding hands with a coping mechanism that's failing. Too dramatic? Good.

Burnout, or depression fatigue, is a giant bitch... but I am bitchier.

Unfortunately, easier said than done, right? To be bitchier than the psychological chemical imbalance. Sure.

My first blog post and the initial part of Smalltown Nothing came after a month-long writing spree. I was buzzing with excitement, but as the burnout began to settle in, that excitement turned into anxiety.

I thought that sharing the first part of my story would ignite a spark of inspiration. I imagined the feedback would fix the emptiness, filling me with motivation. But, to my surprise, it didn’t quite work out that way. It was too often a small spark submerged in a bucket of cold water.

Absolutely, I love that people are reading, exploring, and enjoying [or not enjoying, idk] my work. But the truth is, my soul feels dark, my heart heavy, and my mind constantly wanders.

It's not really an excuse, but--regrettably--I am human.

To be honest, these feelings are nothing new. I have felt this way since childhood. I have been plagued with dark thoughts since I was little. As the kids say, "It do be like that sometimes."

The Hiatus

The hiatus was long but absolutely necessary. During this time, I have been engaging in a mix of activities that were both enlightening and challenging:

• Bad Writing: I tried to write new stuff or add on to my work, but it came out like a giant pile of... well you get it. You can't force it, and I did; and it didn't work out.

• Good Editing: However, I did begin revising my work for Smalltown Nothing and a few parts of By Blood & Starlight; and the revisions were very good--if I do say so myself. I always tell people, "I'm a writer, not an editor". Editing can absolutely be a tedious task, but it's incredibly necessary you do it yourself. I have people tell me, "well hire an editor" (in terms of revisions and whatnot). No... it doesn't work that way. Not if you want your work to be you. The voice and style will never be right if you don't do it yourself. Early Trent Reznor the shit out of it.

• Overindulging in Poetry and Literature: I immersed myself--hedonistically indulged in--poetry and prose. I bought so many f**king books, some well known, some so obscure. I followed so many literature accounts on social media I swimming in melancholic do-nothing quotes by famous authors taken out of context.

• Consumed Art: Choked on piles and piles of art in digital form, at bookshops, and comic book store sales. I couldn't get enough.

• Devoured Film: I consume some of the greatest movies I've ever seen during this time. Like Black Phone, Death of a Unicorn, Dinner in America, Sinner, Mickey 17. Reintroduced myself to some favourites, and absolutely broke my heart all over the floor (all over again) to Tarsem Singh's The Fall.

• Took Edibles for Inspiration: To be honest, when I was younger I turned to droogz QUIT A BIT for inspiration. I've taken edibles before but they've never really worked on my... so I don't know why I thought they would work well for me now. I thought they might spark creativity or inspiration or "lock me in" ...but I soon discovered that they only deepened the darkness and gave me wicked digestive issues.

• Broke My Own Heart: Like... a lot. I'm such a psycho sometimes, and I feel like. a delusional little bean. I obsess over things and people and such I shouldn't and it kills me inside. Self inflicted, sure. Sometimes, not so much.

• Networked in the loosest sense: ...that's it. That's the sentence. It's not that deep. I talked to people outside of my circle.

• Slept a Lot: Like a lot, a lot. Not exactly by choice. I was tired and sad and burnt-the-f out.

  
  

And now, here we are. Me and my 7 little weirdos in my mind calling the shots. ...jk kinda.

What’s Next for Me?

So, what's next?

Clears throat

...More.

The energy to write has been returning but I face other issue. I want to continue with Smalltown Nothing. Chapter 2 is near completion, and it will be much longer than Chapter 1.Just needs a bit of tweaking.

Too often I feel like I’m barely human enough to write about meaningful connections.

How does something write about human connect when they are not having it themself?

Outside of that, I have a backlog of poetry I'm slowly working on creating into little posts and stuff. So, stay tuned for that! A lot of the poetry revolves around my recent big sad and the obsessions... so, stay tuned, folks, for a glimpse into the suffering of someone else.

Final Thoughts?

That's it, that's all. For now.

Go to sleep. Drink so water. Eat food. Don't be a degen.

"I'm not saying goodbye. There isn't any goodbye, unless gravity, which is lying in wait for me, pulls me down entirely. But how could it, since you are alive." ~ Franz Kafka: Letters to Milena