I have had a work slowdown this week. Often this fills me with anxiety and doubt, but considering I have a deadline to send my manuscript to a reader this week, I am using the opportunity to write.
Yesterday I wrote about one of the more painful things in the memoir. I was alone in the house. I got good work done, but by the time DP came home from work I was morose and unsettled. We got into an almost-argument on the phone when he called to see if we needed anything at the grocery store.
Great. This book is going to drive me to divorce. When I’m in that morose headspace, I lose all perspective. But I pulled my shit together.
“What’s wrong?” he asked the moment he saw me.
“I wrote about the sad stuff today,” I said.
“I know,” he said sympathetically and put his arm around me. We both held it together. I became polite again and went to bed early.
Today I need to write yet another difficult chapter. Immediately I am distracted, and look around for something to do that isn’t writing this stupid chapter. But you know what? It’s not that bad. I don’t work in the salt mines. No matter what your job is, sometimes the workday is difficult, but it doesn’t mean that you spend all day on facebook.
For some reason, thinking about my writing in that way helped. Just another somewhat difficult thing. Not the end of the world, not the end of my sanity, not even as scary as tarantulas or as painful as staying at the bookstore until midnight for inventory or writing that paper for the medieval history class that almost made me drop out of college my junior year.
What scares you?