Christopher Hivner's Blog - Posts Tagged "motivation"
Lazy Writer
In my last post I talked about finishing a big project that occupied my time for around 6 weeks. It was a great relief to finish it and be able to move on to something else. The problem has been, move on to what?
I have dozens of “work-in-progress” projects, not to mention short stories in various states of completion. I also haven’t written any new poetry outside of what I did for the book project. I have a humor blog, Cosmic Overdrive, that I had made a goal of updating more often this year, at least twice a week. There are contests I would like to enter, anthologies I would like to submit to: my plate is littered with cold, half-cooked meals I need to get to work on. I haven’t even mentioned my novel which has taken a back seat the past few months to other things.
Moving on to new ventures should not be a problem then, right? Pick an idea and go! Except, I haven’t been going anywhere. I’ll sit down and do a little editing on a story, or post something to the humor blog. I’ll add to my voluminous notes on various plans, but I’m missing motivation.
The book project was exciting. I dove into it head first like an Acapulco cliff diver. I put so much energy into it that now with it finished, I’m drained. I think about all the things I want to accomplish, all the projects I want to finish, but I’m not taking action.
I’m in a lazy, unsure-of-myself place at the moment. My confidence has also been shaken by a spate of rejections the last two weeks. I need to keep searching for something to bring me out into the light so I can get back to writing about the darkness.
I have dozens of “work-in-progress” projects, not to mention short stories in various states of completion. I also haven’t written any new poetry outside of what I did for the book project. I have a humor blog, Cosmic Overdrive, that I had made a goal of updating more often this year, at least twice a week. There are contests I would like to enter, anthologies I would like to submit to: my plate is littered with cold, half-cooked meals I need to get to work on. I haven’t even mentioned my novel which has taken a back seat the past few months to other things.
Moving on to new ventures should not be a problem then, right? Pick an idea and go! Except, I haven’t been going anywhere. I’ll sit down and do a little editing on a story, or post something to the humor blog. I’ll add to my voluminous notes on various plans, but I’m missing motivation.
The book project was exciting. I dove into it head first like an Acapulco cliff diver. I put so much energy into it that now with it finished, I’m drained. I think about all the things I want to accomplish, all the projects I want to finish, but I’m not taking action.
I’m in a lazy, unsure-of-myself place at the moment. My confidence has also been shaken by a spate of rejections the last two weeks. I need to keep searching for something to bring me out into the light so I can get back to writing about the darkness.
Hey, Who Moved My Novel?
Lately my motivation has been missing, playing an existential game of hide and seek with me. I tell myself I want to write, but my body does not move off of the couch and walk to my computer. It does not pick up a pen and pad of paper. My body remains glued to the couch, my thumb clicking the remote control in a desperate search for happiness in some visual stimulation.
It’s been like this since I got sick about a month ago. A terrible sinus infection waylaid me into missing 3 days of work. My head hurt so much I tried not to move it at all. I laid in bed or on the sofa sleeping and watching TV, waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. The illness finally took the hint and hit the bricks, but it took my motivation to be productive along with it.
A few weeks ago I forced myself to write. I posited that if I just started putting words out into the ether they would form something good, I would feel better and my energy and desire would return like a TV star to his sitcom after a failed movie. The result was some truly abhorrent poetry that no one will ever see. All remnants of it have been destroyed and the after images scrubbed from my retinas by space-age technology.
My latest attempt to turn things around was to dig out a novel I started a few years ago. I have about 60,000 words written. I’m happy with it, I just keep getting sidetracked from working on it and before I realize it months have passed with no work being done.
First I read the whole thing to re-familiarize myself with the story. Read over all my notes and let everything bubble up inside my brain. Then I started writing. Mission accomplished, right?
Not exactly. I’m pumping out 300 words a day on the novel which is pathetic. I should be able to wake up in the morning and sneeze out 300 words. It is a start though. I haven’t discovered my motivation yet, and I’ve looked everywhere, but working on the novel again has made a difference.
It’s been like this since I got sick about a month ago. A terrible sinus infection waylaid me into missing 3 days of work. My head hurt so much I tried not to move it at all. I laid in bed or on the sofa sleeping and watching TV, waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. The illness finally took the hint and hit the bricks, but it took my motivation to be productive along with it.
A few weeks ago I forced myself to write. I posited that if I just started putting words out into the ether they would form something good, I would feel better and my energy and desire would return like a TV star to his sitcom after a failed movie. The result was some truly abhorrent poetry that no one will ever see. All remnants of it have been destroyed and the after images scrubbed from my retinas by space-age technology.
My latest attempt to turn things around was to dig out a novel I started a few years ago. I have about 60,000 words written. I’m happy with it, I just keep getting sidetracked from working on it and before I realize it months have passed with no work being done.
First I read the whole thing to re-familiarize myself with the story. Read over all my notes and let everything bubble up inside my brain. Then I started writing. Mission accomplished, right?
Not exactly. I’m pumping out 300 words a day on the novel which is pathetic. I should be able to wake up in the morning and sneeze out 300 words. It is a start though. I haven’t discovered my motivation yet, and I’ve looked everywhere, but working on the novel again has made a difference.
