Life has been a bit more stressful recently. Without going into detail, we'll just say my Depression has launched an all out assault on my ego and while NONE of it had anything to do with my writing that instigated it, eventually, it did trickle down and chewed up my sense of self worth as a writer.
It got to the point where I was feeling isolated, that no one cared if I just left, no one would even NOTICE I was gone. Darkness ensued and I knew that if I let it simmer and stew, I would do or say something I'd never be able to take back. So, I took some time off from the 'net and my writing. No editing, no writing whatsoever.
Went to the beach to go clamming.
Digging into rocky beach in search of those elusive clams, the ones you're allowed to keep, I realized my writing was similar.
I have to dig down in order to find the words to write, the right words. Some words wouldn't fit, some words were unnecessary, and they'd have to be thrown back into the wellspring. Sometimes, that hole would fill up with water and made finding the right clams more difficult. Sometimes, you dig up a piling worm and those things are just NASTY...frightening...and it reminded me of insidious thought-worms that invade the mind, the ego, eating away at self confidence. Those I had to toss away, as far as I could.
I spent time with Mother Ocean, just standing there at the edge of the water. To tell you the truth, I can't even remember what I thought about. Maybe I didn't think of anything. Maybe those thoughts weren't meant to be shared. I don't know.
I do know that when I returned home, I crashed and crashed hard. I slept for 15 hours straight.
I had some strange dreams. The first part of the dream I was a part of a class on a bus. We were going somewhere, but we found ourselves taken hostage and driven to an estate. I remember being worried because I knew the person who had us kidnapped was going to be attacked. A coup of some sort. I ran out to the fountain and pretended to be dead, but when someone poked me with a gun, I started to cry. I didn't want to die. Then there was shooting all around and I just lay there, terrified to move. When it was over, the coup had won and the bad guy was killed. The successors were good guys and returned us home.
Then the dream shifted and I was at home. I went to the fridge to get a mouse to feed my kestrel, but the mouse I put in the fridge wasn't there. Instead there was a young rat. I took it out and dropped it on the floor because it was still moving. But, it was a mutant rat or something because it had tentacles and when it rolled over on to its back, I could see where the chest had been cut open and it had no guts, only a heart and lungs. The heart was beating and I could see it breathing. I didn't want to touch it but I managed to pick it up and toss it outside.
Then I woke up.
I always get weird dreams when I commune with Nature.
In other, more mundane, news, NanoWriMo is a go. I have a partial outline down as to the story I'm going to do. Characters are jotted down.
Yes, paranormal romance. Well, maybe urban fantasy/paranormal romance. Not sure.
I'm very excited and a lot nervous. LOL.