I know it's past time for me to update. I haven't because I haven't been in the mood to. Things aren't horrible, but I vacilate between being somewhat depressed and discouraged to being angry and energetic. I've written a political rant but I haven't posted it because I'm afraid it comes off as incoherent rage, nothing useful or productive. I haven't wanted to talk about writing because I feel like a fraud, no matter that it's probably not true, I am depressed by my dry spell and am convinced that everything I'm writing right now is utter crap.

I suppose the writing thing might be getting better. Maybe. Tim and I took a long walk to the lake last night and during that time I raged and cried and eventually worked out some plot points that were sticking. Tim managed to convince me that not only is my novel not utter crap, but that it's good, that it ties things together very neatly, that it speaks to deeper truths while being entertaining, that it is meaningful, that I have not ruined it, that it might even be fun to write the rest of. He pointed out that I'm stuck dead in the middle, and that that happens to lots of authors. To this I wailed, "But I outlined it so that wouldn't happen to me!" But it has, and I hadn't realized it, and somehow the revelation helps. I'm not alone. I'm not bad for being stuck here. It's normal. I'm normal.

Yeah, so having some issues surrounding the novel, but I think I've smoothed out the outline and that the events now make sense again and I can write forward. I hope. I might still take a day this long weekend and just go write some outlandishly freaky experimental short fiction (this idea inspired by Barth) just to feel like an artiste again :-) Or I may revise the firebug story, if only because I think I know what needs to be cleaned up there and, at least in my mind, it seems very straightforward and simple. The short fiction urge comes from wanting that rush of sending something to Gordon for the first time, for feeling productive, for feeling like I have a chance in hell of ever knowing that sweet thrill of publication again in my lifetime.

I make it sound like I'm all down, but I'm not, not really, not all the time. There is a lot good in my life right now. I'm eating well, exercising regularly and taking care of myself so well that not only am I losing weight every week (just 0.4 shy of 20 lbs total) but that I'm also not coming down with every flu/ cold bug that comes through the office (I get a little sniffly, but not sick, which is not at all how I used to be). My face is clearing up. Work is good, interesting even. Things are going incredibly well for Tim, and I'm happy for him. There are lots of fun things planned this summer (including a bachelor's party tomorrow night which I'm very excited about) and I have a lot to look forward to.

No, my problem is that I'm having trouble getting that last ball into the air. I need to eat well, exercise regularly AND write regularly. And I keep dropping that last ball, and it frustrates me.