So… I’m in a slump. Not a, “I don’t know what to write,” or “I don’t want to write,” slump. But a, “I don’t have the time. Oh my God, I don’t know where to find the time,” slump. Writing is not only my passion, but it’s a vital necessity for my mental well-being. It’s right up there with the need to breathe. As if the words, thoughts and ideas need to be released with every exhale of breath.
I know that I actually do have time. My kids aren’t in a constant state of asking, “mommy, can you…,” or “mommy, can I….” They do sleep. And I am also not a robot who slaves over work all day. I have a pretty wonderful schedule where I’m able to leave the monotony of putting a smile on my face while tending to the duties of the business world at two o’clock every day. But after a day full of brain turned to mush, picking up the kids from school and bustling about the home in my little world of a mother’s organized chaos, I’m so damn TIRED. Too tired to do anything other than binge watching mindless television, or playing games on my phone that are counterproductive to my abilities to truly take a deep breath and exhale the thoughts and ideas of a story into sentences that resemble any form of cohesive thought.
Maybe the real problem is, I lack the time to stop procrastinating. Or maybe I don’t drink enough coffee. Perhaps time management is something I wasn’t particularly gifted with. I’ve seen the ambitious folks of the writing world create life planners for themselves, including a line or two dedicated to word count goals and literary objectives. I took that advice, got myself a planner, laid out the happenings of my week, and you know what? My planner was inundated with all of the activities of my week with no room to add a line for anything else.
I realize the possibility that maybe I am just subconsciously avoiding the space needed for those word count goals and literary objectives. I’m not the biggest fan of forcing myself into committing to a certain number of words just to stay on task. I want my story to come together naturally without fluff. And I know every time I’ve ever had a three-thousand word essay due in school, it ends in a fluffy, pointless, and garbled product of trying to convince a reader of my opinion that I don’t really give a shit about.
Needless to say, something’s got to give. The end goal is a story, and it’s right here in my head, waiting to be shared with you. All I can say is, don’t give up on me. I promise it will be a good one. I think about it all day, I dream about it at night. The thoughts and ideas are right here at the back of my throat. I’m just waiting for the perfect moment to exhale them.
As always, thank you for all of your support!