Writer's Block

It all started when I got all the feedback from my beta readers. I wrote my first book this year and I'm in the process of self-publishing. They left a lot of great feedback and I was excited to start changing things for the better once they were finished.

But when I had to sit down with the parts that needed to be fixed, it suddenly overwhelmed me and I had to close out of Google Drive.

I'm used to doing a lot of work. But that's the problem. I burn myself out. I might be burnt out now, but it feels like so much more. Is it writer's block? I don't know, but I feel depressed, I feel frustrated, I feel scared, I feel overwhelmed, and I feel like I've lost something that was once mine.

Where did my creativity go? My drive? My motivation?

I know I just need to start writing, but every time I sit down at the keyboard and write a few sentences it feels all wrong and I become frustrated again.

I don't like how long this writer's block is lasting. It's been weeks since my beta readers finished my book. I need to get my butt in gear and I promise I'm trying so hard!

Nobody can see it, but that's because the workload is in my head. It's bogged down in here. I'm wading through piles of ideas, starting points, middle points, low self-esteem, and imposter syndrome.

Wait...I don't remember inviting him in, but that's just like imposter syndrome, isn't it? He doesn't get invited. He slips in through the cracks, gets past the barricade of positive affirmations I've tapped up, and sits there like a blot of ink on a beautifully crafted picture...distracting me from what's really important.

I don't even know how I'm writing this.

Perhaps this is what I needed. I needed a brain dump moment.

Usually, writing on something else helps my creative juices start flowing. So I tried to write for one of the current challenges, Arid. I've had several ideas that I've fleshed out enough to make it into something, but each time I write he leans in and whispers in my ear.

"That's not good enough."

"That actually sounds pretty stupid."

It's the same words he whispered to me when I tried to work on my book.

How is it that such simple, softly spoken words can tear down an entire empire of a well-thought-out story driven by years of passion, determination, and hard work?

I hate it.

There, I said it. I hate it so much. And oddly enough, I'm starting to feel a little better. Just a little. I've been trying to ignore him for a while, hoping he'll go away on his own. But I think that's making it worse.

Perhaps I just need a change in scenery. I usually write at home tucked away in my corner of the dining room with a hot cup of bergamot and vanilla tea. The window blinds are closed when it's sunny out, otherwise, there's a glare on my screen and my right arm warms up fast.

I should go to my favorite local coffee shop tomorrow where they make the best iced vanilla matchas. There's a little nook with enough privacy to allow me to feel comfortable and safe. I'll just put in my earbuds and tune out the world so I can enter mine.

If that doesn't work, I'll go home and paint! I'll draw! I'll dress up in steampunk and pretend I'm the main character in the story I've written. I'll do whatever it takes to get it all back and shove imposter syndrome back out through the cracks from whence he came!

And maybe I'll enter that challenge. I don't know yet.

After all, I am a Pantser with ADHD.