Annie On Writing

October 8, 2011

The love has been drained out of me

Filed under: My Journey as a Writer,Observations — Annie Evett @ 11:56 pm

I’ve only been “writing” for three and a bit years. I’ve shared on a number of forums how embarrassed I am about this and that I really wish I could claim I wrote novels with crayons before sticking them up my nose in preschool. I’ve shared my ‘not so secret envy’ of other writers who have always known that they wanted to be a writer, that they have a bunch of dusty manuscripts clipped together with rubber bands and fluffy pipe cleaners, decorated with flowers and pony stickers.

Perhaps I need to write a backstory for myself which involves love angst teenage years spent scribbling science fiction scenes.  More to the point perhaps I need to get over myself and just keep counting from the first day I announced to my colleagues in our weekly sales meeting that I was leaving a (very cushy) HR role to become a writer.

But I digress from the title of my post.  There was a time when I moved heaven and earth in order to submit my fiction friday post for Write Anything over on my fiction blog. In my first two years, I think I can count on one hand the amount of times I didn’t submit a short story or some type. Through babies crying, children’s illnesses, returning to work, relationship breakdowns and personal challenges, I’d always find a way to take the time to write something to address the prompt.  I think it kept me sane, kept me grounded and reading back over a number of them, deeply personal counselling happened as I wrote.

This time last year, I got super excited about collaborative writing a choose your own adventure – a project I thought I’d be sharing with a number of stakeholders. As it turned out, I unwittingly slipped into the managers seat and uneasily kept going, desperately hoping I was doing the right thing by everyone else in the team.  Don’t get me wrong – its been awesome. I’ve learnt so much and feel very blessed to have worked with teams of incredibly talented people . The stories have been amazing and have gone places there is no way I could have dreamed.

The project has been time consuming, emotionally draining and personally challenging.  I have lost countless hours of sleep, wept buckets of tears over decisions and actions which out of my control, lost touch with most of my “real’ life friends, am a ghost partner, having to schedule time to see him and have lost interest I once had in most of my artistic and leisure time pursuits.  I feel so responsible for so many things which in the scheme of things – don’t measure in any way to what I have outside my home office door.

But the most disturbing thing to have slipped past has been my passion for short stories and that consistency to write *something* every week.  I look back at this year and am horrified to see I have only written 10 first draft this year – hardly once  month.  I am beginning to feel like a fake ( again).

NANO is raising its head again. I didn’t enter last year as my husbands health challenge won over the demands of writing words on a page.  Although still a challenge, its not as acute – so perhaps I have the option to looking at it.. but there-in lays the rub.  I don’t know if I can be bothered.

Once upon a time I had characters running over each other to yell their stories to me.  I have a fuzzy blurr going on now. Sort of like the noise (in the olden days) when a television channel shut down for the evening.

I wonder if my characters will ever escape their frozen prison and come and visit me again – or have they abandoned me all together?


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