Guys, these last two months have been a horrible, fantastic mess. On the bright side, I finished the first draft of WILD TYPE and couldn't be happier with how it turned out. I have loved this book for so long now and when I hit the end of this draft I was on cloud nine!
Then, I crashed into depression-ville and actually sat around completely bored, hollow, in a paralyzing funk with no sense of direction, and wanted and did cry about stupid things. As these things go, I told as few people as possible for as long as possible until it just felt damn obvious that Margie was struggling to fake the smiles. I'm a self-isolator. I know that. Let's not discuss it.
After that, as I started with my usual coping strategy (complete with obsessing about whether or not the black cloud will ever leave and if I'm permanently broken), fresh ideas sprung forward. The creative flood occurred. (This flood I occasionally get may be the ONLY upside to chemical imbalance. [See how I didn't say it was me, but a chemical imbalance? Now there's a coping strategy for you.])
As for this flood, I now have a list of no less than five other books I think have potential and another string of six or seven titles I think I could use as short stories which read independently but could be linked together. These are the things I love--when the flood is pulling me along rather than under. Granted, then comes the issues of being in too deep, thinking about stories and characters too much, but that's a topic for another day.
All in all, I've learned to ride out the depressive rip currents as well as the creative floods. They are a pair and I can't seem to have one without the other. On the bright side, however, I can see so much potential for wonderment and magic in these new story ideas that it fuels me to work harder. I know this blog can get stale if I only talk about writing, but in all honestly, that's basically what I do. The day to day stuff I can tweet, the meat and potatoes is saved for you. You're welcome?
Sometimes, I struggle in life. I wonder what I should share and what I should hide. I also struggle with what this blog is from time to time and how I want it to be, what I want it to be. Above all else, I believe it should be honest and I will always approach it with honesty. In no way do I want pity or even sympathy for talking about my depressions. I hate it when other people do it since there's really nothing to say in return, but by God, if I don't bring it up, no one would know and that's where that monster lives: in the space where no one else can see it.
My writing I can hide behind, show you a world so you'll look the other way, but I don't want anything, including depression, hiding within me. There's more room for creative floods when the light is bright and there are no dark corners.