Dry Font
I've been really unimpressed with my own writing recently. I do a lot of it everyday-- grants at work, writing freelance when I get off and on weekends. It's weird to think I've been writing professionally for going on five years now. It both feels like it's been way longer, and also like it still should never have happened in the first place, like a fluke. It's become very normal now but every few weeks I'll get a little jump to my system, sitting in my office, like how did I get here, what am I even doing? I miss working in a kitchen sometimes, miss working with my hands. I appreciate the practice, but the grant format is so different from they way I want to write it feels at times like I'm practicing in the wrong direction, learning only how to make my writing more formulaic and predictable.
I can feel it when I'm writing Lower Heaven. I've got 25 pages of Episode Four typed out and my writing feels at best workman-like, one word trudging in front of another. I know it is just a first draft and all of the sparkle will come with editing but I'm having less of those lightning moments where something raw and beautiful comes out all at once, where my pen is flying across the paper to get the words in my head out. I'm getting it done but it feels dull compared to the first three books. I am of course worried as I write the book's conclusion that none of it will make sense in the end and all of the setting up I've done won't click, or I'll find some huge pothole that I can't cover and makes the whole universe fall apart. These thoughts press on me when I write, and are the notions I know I need to ignore and beat back while I finish up, I can worry about that once the whole thing is in front of me. But still, the ideas are there, and I really hope what I'm writing is worth reading.
It's not just work either, I feel different. Last year and the virus definitely changed everybody in one way or another, but the change I feel bothers me. All through my twenties I have almost ceaselessly been trying to organize something for the community, tried to get groups and events together, felt this burning drive of if I don't do this, who will? I did that through the first half of last year but feel more disappointed coming out of it than anything. I participated in at least three mutual aid groups directly and tried to interface and work with others. None of them led to any lasting connections between people. It felt like the people who were interested initially all found reasons to back away, choose not to keep working together, without even officially closing up shop on concluding, just fading back away. It feels like a mix of failure and the impact of the virus on our world, making everyone suspicious and afraid of moving beyond their own daily path through the world. I still don't know if those groups' falling apart had to do with me or the world, but it essentially put a bad taste in my mouth that has covered up that fire I've always felt to be out and doing something in the community.
I suppose I still have been, the Curio Machine has been taking up a lot of my time and thoughtspace and is going well, same with selling my house. So I probably shouldn't be too worried, with those projects reaching stability soon. And with corona news steadily getting better we'll get to see how sticky the fear on everyone really is. Got some good plans laid out for the summer. We'll see how it goes, and try our hardest like always.
Now, to get my words for Lower Heaven in for the night – I hope anyone reading this is happy in their company or enjoying their solitude.
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