Over 14,600 steps today.
I have a lot of anxiety about losing my drive to write. When I wrote my first book, years ago and it was lost to me while we were homeless, I couldn't write anymore. The depression I was in robbed me of my creative voice.
This past week I was only able to write a very small amount. Not for lack of trying, I would sit down and type a few sentences, but the crazy fire was gone.
Granted, I've been exhausted, the pain has returned, the kids have been sick etc, etc, all the old excuses.
I've been having anxiety attacks. Work has been stressful, so I let myself go to bed early. And sleep in until 6. I let myself rest.
And in doing so, I was afraid. I thought it was gone. I thought I was letting myself down.
But, in the last 36 hours I finished the last few pages of chapter 11 and blazed through 15 pages to finish chapter 12 like it was easier than breathing.
I'm not letting go. I'll fight through the rough patches. Through my will, it will be done. I mean, fuck, you guys. I'm starting chapter 13 of BOOK TWO tomorrow! No more negativity, damn it.
Love to you. Have a great night guys. Follow your dreams you beautiful Birches. Pun intended. See what I did there? Cause... Hickory is a tree.
