I’ve been busy, but not busy, the past several weeks. All of my writing inspiration as of late has turned to heavy subjects. There are short stories I want to get ready for submission, but they’re all very grimdark and depressing. It’s like I’m trying to write for Black Mirror, but without any of the high notes.
Although I’ve published stuff with my writing group every year, I haven’t submitted anything else in a while. Think of it as being afraid to finish anything. Or having a mind that wanders off in the middle of something important – every time there’s something important.
Most likely this is something going wrong with my brain chemistry (at this point, my latest therapist will comment that I’m SO SELF AWARE, which isn’t as awesome as it’s intended to sound). Life keeps changing around me no matter how hard I try to keep myself the same. The results have been something which has harmed my creativity. All of this shouldn’t be a surprise, but I’m dismayed by my seeming invulnerable frailty.
Still, life isn’t necessarily something which I should focus on the things going wrong. I have written a post today, as lackluster as it might be. At least the attached photo is nice to look at.