Not sure what to write, but that’s never stopped me before.

Have been feeling a little overwhelmed lately. I think it’s just a lot of feelings I wouldn’t allow myself to feel during my agent search. If you give in to negative self-talk when you’re down in the trenches that way, then you won’t move forward. I always tend to do more (and better) writing when I feel I’ve something to prove.

Now I have so much to do, but I feel a little lazy about it. I don’t…sometimes I really do just think…what’s the point of adding another book to the world? Ever since turning 35, I’ve been remembering what it was like to be young–in my teens and twenties–and I feel like, well, I didn’t have a strong understanding of what I wanted from the future, so I can’t say whether I met my past self’s expectations or not, but I think they’d be okay with where I ended up, in terms of my material circumstances. But what I couldn’t have understood back then was how dreary life can sometimes seem.

And I don’t even want excitement! The agent search was very exciting, and it was way too much for me! Boooooo to excitement! So what do I want then? I don’t know…I guess that’s where the work comes in. You find something inside the stories themselves–some quality that compels you to keep going.

But it’s just not always fun. SIGH. I dunno. Don’t listen to me.