Things got better. Why? Because I was working — editing — and because it was working, heh.
I don’t know how many times I have to learn this the hard way. My mood (and self-esteem) is almost entirely based around my vocations. Which is why nursing and writing is so good for me — there’s always something I can be good at. Something’s always afloat. And which is why, now that I’m just down to the writing for a month, I’m walking in mental-circles like a three legged dog.
I wish I could be mellow and think, “Well I’m a good person,” or “I’m a good wife,” and lay back and coast. But I can’t, that’s not me. I swim or I die. I love goals, timelines, and routines. How far do I have to swim, how fast, how often? But always swimming.
I sat down and talked myself into writing for an hour (with the help of Barry, online then, huzzah) and then for an hour after that. At page 44 out of 79 of single-spaced pages in Shapeshifted, making Daniel’s suggestions. These 79 pgs comprise 40k of text. When I’m done with this and press on, adding in all the other work I’ve already done, I’ll be about halfway done with editing the book. That is a heartening sum. And I think I can get back into it easily tomorrow.
I just needed to straighten things out in my head some. I feel a ton better now. Now, I can try and go to sleep and relax.