I’m not right. I’m just not. Haven’t been for months I think.
This writing thing may not be such a good idea. I get weird when I’ve been writing and I don’t like it. So, regime of morning yoga and meditation in the hopes that I regain my equilibrium because I’m really, really out of balance.
I don’t know how else to describe it. I’ve had doctors telling me for the past few months that I’m ill, to the extent I’ve developed pains all over the place and I’ve been thinking for the past few months that it’s ok for me to be concentrating on me and now I’m angry with myself because I didn’t need to be.
I’m worried and I’m jumpy and I’m concerned that it’s at least partially because of the writing, the stuff that’s coming out of me, it’s taking write what you know to extremes, my completed manuscripts are fine for editing but I need to write other things.
Of course the little voice inside is telling me maybe I shouldn’t be a writer, maybe I’ve got an inflated opinion of my own talents. On the otherhand I have two letters from real life publishers telling me otherwise and I have to do this to really know. If it’s all just rubbish then ok, I go back to the sheep life and I’ll try something else. But I have to believe that this isn’t just arrogance on my part.
I have to.