It struck me this past week that I’m losing interest in writing.
For months I’d attributed the apathy to the fact I’ve had three jobs, three homes and an annoying injury to get through in the past 2 years, but now all that has passed? My 100w/d challenge has gotten me back into a routine and in a weird way that’s what’s proved it… I write my words, but mechanically, without enthusiasm.
The last writing group meeting where I subbed I pretty much lost my temper, because all I could hear in everyone’s helpful feedback was problem, problem, problem. (And guys I thoroughly apologise for that.) I’m not interested in the process of refinement. I’m not interested in the challenge anymore.
If I write I just want to let words do their thing, and the only time I’ve been excited by writing this year has been when I’ve written with no thought for the result.
The problem is you can’t really write like that unless you truly write for your own amusement. I did that for years and years, but I don’t know that that interests me anymore either.
Maybe it’s just a symptom that my other creative outlets have been similarly undercut by moving and limping, but I’m significantly more interested in, and excited about, checking-out wallpapers and deciding what I’ll knit/crochet this winter than I am about storytelling.
I know my writing demon isn’t impressed with me, but I’m feeding him chocolate and we’ve declared a truce. 🙂 Meanwhile the 100w/d challenge continues.