I don’t mind admitting that I have been in a bit of a funk this week but it may be a writer thing. It is not unusual, in fact very common, for writers when they end one project to suddenly become depressed. I’ve seen a couple studies where it has been equated to losing a friend or a child leaving the home. I am no exception and I struggle with this although I have gotten better at handling it over the years I think. A good bottle of scotch helps. 🙂
I have also been prepping for the next project. This too is a struggle for me. For some reason, unless circumstances force me into instant action, it takes me awhile to kick it in gear as we say in the States. I’m not sure why this is other than part of it may be fatigue. I haven’t had two days off in a row this year so I am a bit due but there is no time for that. However, the body can force you into half-speed when it needs a bit of a break.
There are signs though I have reached the end of this funk. The other day, I could’ve written two chapters about the new project in an afternoon without ever really talking about the project. Good stuff too. 🙂 Today, I’ve had some creative suggestions & thoughts which I have jotted down, all signs my brain says it is time to go from a trot to a gallop.
It could’ve been the lunch I had with my dad that triggered the moment. We use to go all the time together but since he re-married not so much. Part is schedule and part the fact the step-mom is more step-monster than not. We had a good conversation together though as I took him to his fav lunch place. Lunches have always played a role in our lives. Even as a kid, we would go to lunch together every day. As a teen we would meet at a place called Mr. Steak (my vegan friends will be glad to know it went out of biz a long time ago although we still ended up at a Steakhouse today… oh, the irony of it all) but it was a bit of a hangout and lunches will always be intertwined with my memories of my dad.
Tonight I was driving through town, it is a small town and things go dead during the week here rather earlier – about the time my brain kicks into gear. But the warm breeze coming through the car window harkened me back to Tel Aviv – Yafo and I could for a brief moment picture myself driving along the seashore up to Mike’s Place, where I might grab a pint, listen to some blues, while a few yards away in the background the ocean lapping up against the shoreline could be heard. Sitting outside there, in one of those quiet self-reflective moments, that leaves you with a feeling of being glad you’re alive. Yeah, it may be a writer thing, but I am pretty sure the gears just changed.