Life is getting busy, and I am glad of it.
I've just come through a period when, although I was still writing, I wasn't writing as much as I usually do, and there wasn't as much enthusiasm as there always has been before. Truth to tell, it was a great effort at times. I became super critical of every word I wrote, and I began to question whether I really was any good at this game, after all.
Ironically, just as the self doubts crept in, others started to take more notice of my work, people began asking me for things, or praising my work. Even people who'd seen it before and dismissed it suddenly started being kinder and looking on it as worthwhile.
Which is a little confusing, but I suppose it's better that way than the other way around.
Turned out I was suffering from a great depression. The trials and tribulations of life, things that had been building for years, had finally overwhelmed me and shut down my engines. But I was zooming forward at such a pace, trying to outrun those troubles, that I kept going, even when the power failed. It took many months for me to coast to a stop, months when I was slowing down, not able to do all I had planned and wondering why that was so.
Well, I finally stopped. I got the engine overhauled. And now, I am back in the race.
In the last month, I have done an average 1500 words every day to my novel. Not only that, but when reading them back to myself, I am fairly pleased with their quality. Oh sure, there's been some polishing needed, some editing, points needing clarification, typos to correct. But not a massive amount of total rewriting, when a piece has to be scrapped and taken back to square one. And now, it's nearly finished and I am confident enough to think it should be out there, trying to fly on its own.
It's been a long, dark winter. Now, suddenly, it's Spring.