It’s 1am here as I’m writing this blog post. I’ve done 12 (count em) articles today (work, which I can’t not do), tried to settle into my dissertation and failed miserably, skipped genning up a new character for my game, because I was failing miserably at my diss, got breifly excited because my column went up today on ProudlionComics then sunk back into the doldrums of writing this dammed dissertation.
It’s odd. I’ve never struggled quite so much with work, until it’s due to be handed over to actually count towards my degree – I know these are the final few hand ins and instead of feeling liberated and freed from the pressures of ‘dear lord I have to actually look him in the eye after handing in this smut’ I feel….constricted, and fed back into myself. There’s this odd loop of shame going on instead of enjoying my writing, and most of it is tame. The one I’m writing right now is a bit wierd – it’s not the cross gender time travel one I had originally planned on handing in, in fact, it’s something remarkably different. And I like it, a lot, but it’s taking forever to write, simply because it’s in second person and that, of all the perspectives I could write in, is killing me.
I’m sure I’ll talk about this more over on ‘Writer – interupted‘ (greenroominmyhead.com), but for now, all I know is that writing is becoming increasingly more difficult and sleep is ever more elusive.