A Fog in the Sun

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Yesterday was another bust of a writing day; the blog entry was the most expressive I’ve been in a while. I’m not blocked, not in the traditional sense of being unable to create ideas or put words on the screen. Nor am I distracted by “other things”–laundry, listening, or life.

Instead, I seem to be enclosed in a fog. The ideas are there; the words are there. Yet I feel a strange numbness, almost a dissociation from life. As if I’m watching someone else walk through the house, pull a few weeds, take care of my daughter. I don’t write because I don’t care. Ambition is shot. All I want to do is sleep, and I hear myself try to explain how exhausted I am from the trip.

But I do know the symptoms for what they are. I’ve lived with them too long. They are the edge, the spiraling tendrils of a darkness that will consume me if I let it. I know what to do. I just haven’t done it.

As bland as yesterday was, I did take the first steps; I got out in the light. It’s been sunny here for a few days, and sunlight helps. It warms the spirit and mind as well as the body. Prayer. I even read a chapter in Rob’s book.

And writing. I must write. Writing pushes the darkness back like nothing else. Strange, huh, that the one thing that helps most is the one thing I’m most likely not to do when those distancing fingers pull me away from life.

So the plan for today is to work on the house a tad (I have a friend coming over for lunch), then work on an submission for one of the upcoming God Allows U-Turns books. Allison Bottke is a friend, and we talked this past week about my writing and her upcoming books. I need to do this. Then…back to the novels.

And we’ll see what happens next.

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