Friday, November 11, 2016

Writing Hiatus

One of our upcoming episodes is about self-care as a writer, and making sure you give yourself what you need in order to be healthy and creative. I talked about this guilt spiral I have (that I'm sure some other creatives have, too): I get stressed, so I stop creating, which only makes me guilty and more stressed because I'm not working toward my goals.

So, since the holidays are coming up and things are busy and insane, I'm taking a step to break that cycle. I'm giving myself a hiatus from writing solo projects until January. No short stories, no novels, no essays, no poems. Giving myself permission to press pause and recover from the insanity that has been 2016, and acknowledging that it's okay to take that rest.

I'm going to try to keep up with blogging here in the meantime, but I make no promises. Words and I need to take some time apart so that we can get a fresh start soon.

So, if I don't see you or blog between now and then: happy holidays, happy New year, and remember to take some time to look after yourself and your own needs. I promise, it's important, and the creative world will be there when you're ready to come back.

Emer has mixed feelings about this hiatus, but she knows it's for the best. She'll still be working on her webcomic, Parmeshen, and some other work with co-authors in the meantime. And she's still waiting on a final publication date for her short story "Glitter Bomb," but it should be very soon!

1 comment:

  1. Stress sucks. For me, this year has been a real downer. I am beginning to understand what are the good things and bad things to do when stressed/depressed. I’ll ramble a bit, so please forgive.

    When I was twenty-seven, I was in a store and saw a sale on eight foot tall inflatable Godzillas. I was feeling really depressed at that time and somehow got it in my head that an inflatable Godzilla would cheer me up. The problem I was facing, the cost of the Godzilla matched what I had in my wallet it was all I had left to buy food for that week. There was only one Godzilla left on the shelves and I figured it would be gone if I waited for payday. Being young and foolish, I bought the Godzilla.

    After I got home, I unboxed the thing and began the task of blowing him up. Once he reached his full capacity and I was nearly hypoxic, I stood back and admired my new roommate. I thought it would be cute to see my cats flee in terror, so I crept into the living room, hiding behind his great greenness.

    “Rarr!” I attempted my best Godzilla cry.

    I peeked from behind my behemoth. One cat was grooming herself, the other was asleep. They looked up, looked at each other and back at Godzilla, they rolled their eyes and went back to business as usual. Not the reaction I hoped for, but still, I had my own personal Godzilla.

    For the first few mornings, I reveled at finding Godzilla greeting me with that big Tokyo eating grin on his face. As the week wore on, hunger sharpened my wits and I quickly realized my impetuous purchase only provided a fleeting comfort. To top it off, the cats seemed a little peeved about the whole thing. They usually slept on my bed at night, now they were nesting in the empty Godzilla box.

    Towards the end of the week, I came home and found Godzilla deflated, his lower extremities shredded. The cats greeted me with their usual meow, no hint of guilt. I poured them two bowls of kibble, and pondered whether kibble would taste worse than it smells. I gathered Godzilla’s remains and shoved them into a trash bag. That night I woke up to find two furry bodies nestled up against me and all was right with the world.

    The point? Godzilla is a wuss, hunger never makes things better, cat kibble tastes worse than it smells, and money truly can’t buy happiness.

    I’ll be sure to check out “Parmeshen” Can’t wait to read “Glitter Bomb”

    Enjoy your hiatus.