Something happened and I quite don’t know what to do with myself. So obviously, I’m here, blogging about it.
I did not expect it to come so fast, not when I felt sooo lost just the week before.
This is probably the time where you all think, what, what’s going on, something MASSIVE happened here. Really, it’s nothing worth screaming about for anyone, except for me. So I’m going to scream about it and pretend it’s a big deal for everyone here, okay?
I finished my WIP.
Let’s throw back, shall we?
I started writing this whole damn thing in November 2015 for NaNoWriMo. I wrote about 63 K of something that looked like a story and I wrote the end of the draft on the 6th of December, 2015.
I tried to come back to it and edit it with Camp NaNoWriMo in April 2016. I did not know what to do or where to start and I was graduating this year. It was all so complicated. Basically, I re-read my first Word Page and just gave up.
On the dreaded back-to-school time, in September 2016, while everyone was screaming about new classes, people, teachers, moving out, back in or just moving on from life, I sat unemployed at my desk and opened a new Word doc, writing again for the first time in five months.
A little more than a year later, on September 16th, I took off my headphones (I was listening to that new Zayn+Sia song. It’s, like, REALLY good) and looked at my sister like I had seen a ghost. The ghost of that WIP finally on paper again.
YES. It’s the same story from that NaNoWriMo 2015. It has changed since that first draft, as everything else around this story, and my life, has. It will still need about a gazillion edits. I’m not even sure of the book title just yet. I feel like nothing makes sense, I am dreading like hell the time I will take these 76 K back and read every single one with a critical mind and, let’s face it, probably just HATE IT ALL.
But I goddamn wrote something that looks like a book, so right now, I should feel pretty proud.
Instead, I’m feeling emotionally drained and I just don’t know what to do with my life, or with myself. I know this story is not over. I know it still needs tons of edits to make sense. I know I will come back to it, but for now… I’m just feeling weird and empty. I HAVE NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT ANYMORE.
This is a lie. I have ideas lying around somewhere inside my brain. I’m thinking about NaNoWriMo this November already. Yet, at the moment, I’m just NOT writing and it’s WEIRD.
I’m sorry, this post is a bit all-over-the-place, but I’m in a funky mood. I have this thing called, the writer’s confusion syndrom. Basically: I don’t know if I’m even a writer, if I’m any good, or what to do with myself. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to write something again. Something new. Something different. I just don’t know, friends.
I said I would share more about my WIP and I already kind of did. I will share more about it all with a special feature coming soon, curtesy of one of my lovely blogging friends and I, so keep your eyes open.
Writers, what do you do when you’re done with a project? Am I the only one feeling LOST as hell? If you have any tips or tricks to get out of this funk, PLEASE DO SHARE WISDOM with me.
Readers, what do you do when you finished a book that’s like, emotionally draining?! Can you get back into another book right away? Do you feel slightly…in a slump? HOW DO YOU SURVIVE? Let me know all your tips in comments!