I have stopped writing.
Just temporarily, mind you. But this will be the first time in forever that I have chosen to stop, rather than come to an unwilling halt.
I will not look for prompts, or work on my second novel, or shop my first novel. I will not try mashing genres, short stories, poetry, or even so much as a shopping list.
The fact is, I am tired.
I had another rejection, and I just cannot bounce back. I think that sometimes, we need to withdraw. Pull in our horns, furl the sails, drift, rest. It is such hard work, ploughing on, ever onwards, isn’t it? I will let the wind die, the current vanish, the oars fall from my hands, and stop rowing. I will accept defeat.
There are cycles in nature, and in our lives too.
Sometimes it’s all growing, green, life bursting forth. Sometimes it’s harvest, reward for work well done. Right now it’s the hard between times; so much effort has been expended, yet the ground does not yield. Earth turns to dust, the rivers run dry, the rains fail.
I know there are ways round this. I’ve done it before. And, sometime, I will try again. Refilling my well with painting, photography, walks, staring at the sky, reading something new, it all works. Today, though… it is the time to lick and bind my wounds, feel a little sorry for myself, eat chocolate without guilt. Until I find the strength to take a deep breath and dive back in.
