As a sortakinda follow-up to yesterday's lamentations over why I decided not to participate in NaNoWriMo this year (or, y'know, participate any year), I came to the understanding that I'm kind of experiencing writer's burnout.
Not writer's block, mind. That's when nothing comes to mind. Writer's burnout is when you have ideas, sure, and certainly more than a few of them are worth writing about, but you're so tired of writing. It's become an obligation as opposed to a hobby. And you know what they say: when you feel obligated to do it, it's often just not fun anymore. In fact, it can be downright annoying.
Just like that one friend. We all have one. Maybe two; maybe more. Maybe it's me, even. You're fine, you're pals... When all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, straight-up everything they do drives you nuts and irritates the snot out of you. That's my writing muse, personified. She's all needy and junk. "We need to hang ouuuuut. Whenarewegonnahangouuuuuuut? How about tonight? No? Tomorrow?"
She probably needs a hug. I'll give her one, eventually, but she's gotta stop pestering so dang much.
So what's a creative soul to do but paint her nails with crackle polish and contemplate going to bed early? (Related note: I'm a champ.)
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