Last month, I received my WordPress award for six years of blogging.
And it felt like such a lie.
Most of you know that I stopped blogging this year. It started in April, a little over six months ago, and it is by far the biggest step back from blogging I’ve ever taken. I tried a lot of things to avoid it. I went from blogging every other day to blogging two times a week to blogging every Saturday. I started taking breaks, and then the breaks weren’t enough.
Granted, this year has been HARD. I know I sound like a broken record, but I’ve been struggling with health issues, my cat had cancer (then beat it!), and I started a new job. Recently, there was an unexpected death in the family and I found out I have to move. All of these issues and more led to posts like Tips For Writing During a Life Change and I’m a Writer with Imposter Syndrome. By writing those blog posts, I realized I needed to take my own advice. I needed to take huge steps back to breathe. But I honestly thought I’d be back by now, and that’s what scares me.
Logically, I know there’s a lot still going on in my life. (My kitchen is filled with moving boxes instead of plates. Not to mention that I currently write in the moving box-filled kitchen because my office is unusable due to a raccoon. Don’t ask.) I keep thinking I will feel better and attain more “when it gets better/easier/less busy,” but everything has just been getting worse, and I often feel at a loss about what to do to change it, because trust me, I’ve tried. And I’m still trying. After six months, though, it starts to feel like life is never going to stabilize enough to get back on track.
Trust me, I’ve tried to take the “life will never stabilize, so get back at it anyway,” but every time I sit down to write a blog post, I just get so depressed. I keep going back and forth, back and forth on when and how to come back. Should I post once a week again? What about every other Saturday? How about only when I feel like it? Will I ever feel like it? Not to mention that my free time is miniscule, and anytime I manage to get some, I want to use it to write my next novel rather than to blog. Not that I don’t want to blog, I do. I love blogging. I never meant to quit. And I still don’t feel like I “quit” blogging. I feel like I failed. Or time got away from me. Or life did.
Everything has felt so out of reach this year: my health, my job security, my writing. I used to average 10,000+ words a week on my “goal” project, plus some in other ideas. Now I’m lucky if I finish one chapter a month for my writers’ group and get to dabble in editing my historical. Forget pursuing publication. I can’t even fathom doing that right now, even though I want to. Granted, I haven’t technically stopped either. I always read Publishers Marketplace and Writers Digest, and reach out to publishing professionals, and work with beta readers, and and and. But every little thing feels huge right now.
It’s just hard to feel like I can give advice on writing, editing, and pursuing publication when I’m struggling to participate anymore. Oddly enough, though, I realized while writing this diary-style rant that I am participating. This is participating.
This is what I used to do every week: share my feelings as I navigate this crazy dream of writing.
And maybe that’s all I need to do. Maybe I’m enough, even in my failures.
P.S. On a positive note, I will be signing books at the 2018 Story Center Local Author Fair in Kansas City, Missouri on November 17 at 3 PM. My books will also be paired with a custom-made pastry, so it’ll be super fun (and sweet).