Today I had one of my crisis moments where the same paralyzing thought echoed through my head: What am I accomplishing, exactly?
Every project that I’m working on right now is at a point where I need to edit, and while that can make it easier — I just have to fix, I don’t have to create from nothing. But that’s also the problem. I don’t feel like I’m creating. And when I’m not creating, I have too much time to pause and wonder, why can’t I get things out there? Why can’t I look up more magazines, more agents, send out more letters and submissions? Why can’t I get noticed when I do do those things?
When I feel this way, it’s actually harder to get anything done. I feel it all the way out to the tips of my fingers, slowing me down. I forced my way through it. I completed a round of edits on a short story and an essay, and I sent out three (3!) query letters. A decent day. But the thought kept eating at me, devouring me from the inside: What am I doing?
I keep reminding myself of all my little personal pep talks, but when I get this feeling I can’t talk it away. I gotta let it ooze out on its own.
Maybe I should go to yoga more.