Saturday, 20 December 2014

The Year That Was.

I started writing when I was eleven, and since then it feels like I have never gone more than a month without successfully working on something - a chapter, a song, a piece of poetry. 

But this past year it felt like I could never get anything right. My novel for NaNoWriMo barely made it to the 50,000 word mark, I never managed to start any of the stories I wanted to re-write, and of the two short stories that I did manage to get out, I hated one and only semi-loved the other.

Not being able to write has left me feeling stir-crazy, irritated, and maybe even a little depressed - something that I definitely don't need after the year I've just had. 

I lost my maternal grandmother in January, and then my maternal grandfather in July. And it's like as soon as I start feeling that things are getting better, something else happens. Half way through November I found out that my youngest cat was sick, and $900+ we still don't know what's wrong with him. 

To say that I'm stressing out over everything would be an understatement.

And obviously it's impacting my ability to write. 

Having failed to second draft any of my original novels, I've turned my attention to rewriting one of my old fan fictions, Crash Into Me. Because writing something is better than writing nothing at all. And if all goes well, maybe I'll turn it into an original, too. 

Wish me luck?

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