I know what the last post was about. This post is about the same thing. A way to control the demons that control me – specifically one demon. My writing. I cannot describe myself right now but I’m between patients and working on this post. My hands were literally shaking and I feel like I’m having a mini seizure. My searches for today – writing retreats, writing sites. An hour later, I’m staring into space, feeling very lost and confused. Yet, I feel found. I take that back. I feel like Hope is knocking on Pandora’s box and I do not want to open the box again. I want to. I don’t want to. I desperately want to. Yet, I’m holding on to dear life, because I feel like I’m standing on a precipice. Free fall, with shards of sharp rocks on the way, leading to definitive death. Yes, why wouldn’t I be afraid?
Maybe it’s the tea. The caffeine is known to make one ansy. I wish it was as simple as that. For someone like me who drinks several cups a day, one cup is not going to do it. No, it’s the damn writing thing that is calling again and again and again. I can scream it to go away, but it won’t.
When I’m at work and I need to behave, perhaps one way to keep demons in check is to write. So, here I am. Writing. Writing like I’m running out of time (Yes, Hamilton). Writing like my life depends on it. Sometimes, I think it does. I wish it didn’t. The curse is real. I look around my office in mad suspicion. Did someone spray something to make me jittery? Most people can’t handle my energy level. Why would they seek to increase it in an uncontrollable fashion? I cannot tell you. What do you name this paranoia? The writer’s curse? I would think and hope this post would cure it. I know the truth. It may alleviate some symptoms, but this one is going to hurt.
I remember starting my novel, The Color of Rain, in 1999 shortly after I finished dental school. What do I have now? 23 chapters and they are not that great. I stand and look at 80,000 words that all need to be re-read and re-written. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed. But I remember 1999. I couldn’t function normally. I was possessed. This feeling is deja vu all over again. If I would have quit, maybe this won’t be so bad. I had taken a long reprieve. My demon had disappeared. I called out to him and I almost didn’t even realize he existed until now. He shows up and my life will be filled with a thirst I cannot quench standing at a stream. Who knows? The stream may just be an illusion.
This post is not working. I’ll just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Still not working. A screw is loose in my head. C’est la vie.
Until next time,
TTR
