1823: Pondering Free Time

I think I’m bowing out of the creative writing project for the moment. I may revisit it at some point in the future, but for now I need to stop. It’s stressing me out a bit — not because of the subject matter which, as regular commenter Jud pointed out, is, to an extent, drawn from my personal experience (albeit not the more fantastic stuff), but rather because… well, look at the clock.

I got home from work about ten minutes ago. I am exhausted. I spend up to three hours of my day travelling to and from work thanks to an absolutely hellish commute that I can’t see a way around (aside from just quitting, which isn’t a practical or desirable option), which means that on weekdays up to 12 hours of my time is taken up with Stuff I Have To Do rather than Stuff I Want To Do. This makes the few hours I have in the evenings to actually do Stuff I Want To Do extremely precious to me, and churning out 1,500-2,000 words a day in a story where I’m not entirely sure where it’s heading eats into that time and is starting to feel a bit like an obligation rather than something fun to do.

I like writing. I really like writing. I wouldn’t have been posting this bullshit for 1,823 days if I didn’t. But there are days when I need a break, and to relax, and to post something that just vents a bit of steam, or gives thanks to a higher power for an entertaining dog I saw on the street or something like that. I’ve always said with regard to this blog that the moment it starts feeling like work rather than something I actually want to do, I need to stop. So far that hasn’t happened — it’s come close a few times, but I’ve always managed to find something to write about day after day, even if the post ends up being little more than a glorified diary entry. (Still, those posts can often be the ones that spark the most conversations or give you, dear readers, the best insights into what goes on inside the messed-up mind I call my own.)

The stuff I’ve been writing, though, I need a break. That is feeling like work, and given how tired I am when I get in of an evening, more “work” is the last thing I want to think about. I want to sit down, have some dinner, watch some TV, play some games, go to bed and then repeat the whole hideous process over and over again until it’s time for a weekend. (I really like my weekends now, which is one arguably positive thing about life having a proper job with the rest of the normal people.)

So, then, I’m sorry to anyone reading that this disappoints, but I’ve learned throughout my life that if you keep doing something when you don’t really want to, you start to resent it, and any joy it once held for you is lost. I don’t want that to happen with writing — creative fiction writing or otherwise — so it’s time to take a step back, chill out, relax, and perhaps return to it at some point in the future. Or perhaps do something else entirely! Who knows. That’s the joy of being freeform.

Anyway. I need to go and sit on the sofa, lean my head back and groan about how tired I am for a bit. Then eat dinner. Then play some games. Then… well, I went through the routine above.

Thanks for continuing to read!