The only true downside of this writing thing is the black moods.
As I told in the past, when I’m writing – and these days, I’m writing most of the time – I am subject to bouts of what I suppose the Elizabethans would have called melancholia.
Basically, I get mentally tired but at the same time restless, easily irritated and in a state of what I can only describe as aimless sadness.
I regress to a state of sub-human standards – I don’t shave, my daily schedule gets chaotic, and I am in general pretty unpleasant to deal with.
I normally see this as a consequence of the fact that I’m in the middle of something that’s still incomplete and formless on the page, but is getting increasingly complete and well-defined in my mind.
It’s like two sides of my life were moving at different speed.
I sometimes wonder if this has to do with creative pursuits in general – maybe that’s why a lot of people in the writing business ended up hitting the bottle, or worse.
Maybe this generalized dissatisfaction comes with the territory, and we have to learn to deal with it the best we can?
I don’t know.
The only good thing is, these bouts of mild depression don’t last long – and I normally bounce back pretty easily. Some good music, a good book, a cup of tea or a piece of chocolate is usually enough.
Also, I say to myself that there’s a lot of people out there that’s been dealt a worse hand of cards than I was, and so I’m not special in any particular way – not when things work out, not when they do not.
All we have is the opportunity to try and make it work – and if it does not, we can try again.
Not many can say that.