Ugh, the problems of having inspiration
My worst problem today? Inspiration. Oh, I hate it so much. And that’s not something I’d ever think I would be saying.
Really, it’s not the inspiration that’s bothering me. How could it be? No, this is something completely different. It’s life that’s been getting to me.
I wake up. Like normal. I didn’t die in the night, thankfully. Not that I thought I would, but at least I know I’m accounted for. After my amazing relationship with my bed has been rudely interrupted by my alarm clock, I have to go through my usual, every day routine of getting ready. What’s not standard today is my level of inspiration.
I shower, I plan the next scene in my head.
I brush my teeth, I design characters.
I do my hair and makeup, I narrate in my head conversations that are supposed to happen in the next chapter.
I don’t even eat breakfast. No, I’m far too busy for that, I’ve got writing to do now. At first, I thought it would be a good idea to get an hour of writing done every morning before I started my work. Being able to make my own hours with homeschooling anyway, it seemed like a good option. Seemed. After that hour turned into two or three, I knew there was something wrong.
So alright, I’ll do my homework now. No big deal. I put my story away and pull out some socials work I have. Notes about the most boring stuff ever. I can’t help loosing track of what I’m doing, my writing’s just sitting there on my computer, and all I have to do is open it up. It would be so simple. Thinking about that, I can’t concentrate anymore on work. I mean, who wants to learn about Canadian government in the twenties when you could be engulfed in a scene? No one.
The longer I try to force myself to work, the more I feel like I’m dying inside. It’s like I’m starving, and the only way to fill my tummy is to write. Stupid life and responsibilities, getting in the way of what’s really important. Somehow it kinda scares me, like I’m loosing touch of reality. Maybe one day I’ll be this hermit thing locked up in my little apartment doing nothing but sitting by my computer. Haven’t moved since twenty-fifteen, I’ll say. Haven’t showered either, no doubt. Somehow, I’m not sure I could really hate that.
Needless to say, I haven’t gotten much done today.
How the heck are you supposed to balance responsibilities and writing then? I’ve been working at this for years, and I still don’t have an answer. If anyone has any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.