When I’m Not Writing

When I’m not writing, I feel sad and out of sorts.  These facts came home to me with a vengeance last week, because for some reason, I stopped writing.  I didn’t write.  At all. Nary a word.  Nary a peep, except on the blog, Facebook or Twitter. Nary a jot nor a tittle.

I’m not quite sure what happened.  In some ways last week was an exciting week – I got the draft of my book’s cover and cover copy, I found out my release date.  These are good things.  But the writing came to a full, dead, grinding, stop.  And that was very bad on many different levels.

When I’m writing, I feel centered.  Grounded.  Happy.  Writing makes me feel full.  Last week I was empty. Stressed.  Depressed.  Unfocused.  Lost.

I forced myself to start writing again on Monday.  So far, I’ve written every day this week.  At first it was like trying to push a boulder up a hill made of mud.  Day by day, it’s gotten a little easier, the boulder rolling easier, the inertia less.  Little by little, the gears are starting to move again.  The feeling of completion is coming back again.

I don’t know why I stopped writing, but now that I’ve started again the feeling of hope and joy stirring inside me remind me why I am always compelled to go back to it.

What about you?  Is there something you do that, when you do it, you hear a voice down deep inside you saying “Yes!  This is why I’m here!”

Well, if you have that thing, if you know what it is, then you are blessed indeed.  You need to go out and do it!  No excuses!  It’s important.  Not everyone is so fortunate.

And if you haven’t found your thing yet – don’t give up.  The possibilities are endless if you are willing to look.  We, all of us, are special in our own individual ways.

Now, then.  I think that I shall go, take a dose of my own medicine, and write something  🙂