I’m back with more musings about my three main goals. I caught up on my writing (as far as an hour a day), and I have decided that I’m going to move Point B to the second book. What am I talking about? Well, I mused about it in the prior post, which you can read here.
In my murder novemoir, I had the central mystery plotted out in my mind. I didn’t know who the perp would be (which is unusually for me. I usually know it from the beginning), but I had the vic and the basic plot points.
Last night, I started writing about a second major mystery that I had seeded the night before, which was much more interesting to me. My impulse was to set it aside, but my brain said, “Nope. We’re going to keep on writing about it.” I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I knew the smart thing to do would be to put it in the sequel, but I’m stubborn if nothing else.
Now, though, I think I’m going to set it aside for the second book. It’s too meaty to do it in tandem with another major mystery. I have decided that the hour a day can include the time it takes for me to research a topic or rereading what I wrote before. It includes thinking time and anyithing that is related to writing. Once I’ve done that for the month of January, then I’ll think about making it two hours.
I am very glad that I changed it from writing 2,000 words a day to writing for an hour a day–and now saying doing anything writing-related for an hour. The goal right now is to get myself back into writing fiction on a daily basis. I still have it in me; I just need to apply myself.
Side note: This is another thing that I found out about neurospicy people–it’s not just laziness. What I mean is that sometimes it feels literally impossible to force myself to do the thing I need to do. Even if it’s something I want to do.
When my bestie used to live here, we would make plans to get together once a month or so. I always looked forward to it, but I had to drag myself to get dressed and drive to her place. She would not be ready when I got there (a long running joke in our thirty-year friendship), and we used to commiserate with each other about how weird it was that we had such a hard time getting ready for something we really wanted to do.
I figured it was a depression thing (and that’s what she thought, too), but much later on, I found out it’s also a sign of neurodivergency. Like, there’s something in my brain chemistry that actively works against me getting shit done in a brisk fashion.
When I was younger, I used to beat myself up over it. I said I was lazy and why didn’t I just do the thing? I said to my friends that the worst part was all the time I spent fretting over the thing or studiously denying I had to do the thing. I very rarely missed the actual deadline, but I caused myself so much angst in the meantime.
Oh, and I’ve had to pay the fine many times when I missed payment deadlines. A friend of mine called it the ADHD/autism tax. By the way, I separate payment deadlines and other deadlines. The former, I miss all the time. The latter, I rarely do. I work to the back of a deadline, but I do make it. With a lot of personal stress, yes, but I do make it.
It’s hard not to get down on myself for wasting so much time doing ostensibly easy things. My brother, whom I greatly admire for his decisiveness, is great for bracing me and pushing me to do things I’m dragging my feet on. Not on purpose, but just his whole demeanor is a catalyst for me taking action sometimes.
Other times, though, it’s a stick that beats me down. It’s not his fault, I hasten to add. He’s not trying to do it, and he doesn’t know he’s doing it, but it’s just my brain that interprets it as something harsh and negative. Because I’m so hard on myself. Or at least I was. I’m better now, but I still slip sometimes.
With my last therapist, I talked about how hard it was to make myself to things and how it shouldn’t be so hard. She was really good at just listening to me before delivering a pithy statement that cut through my shit while being compassionate at the same time.
We were working of fixing my broken brain (depression and axiety), but what she said didn’t have anything to do with that. She said,” What if you accepted that your brain worked that way?” What she meant was, what if I went into an assignment knowing I was going to fuck around for the first few weeks before buckling down? And accepting that’s how I was going to get shit done?
I wasn’t able to do it all the time, but it did help when I managed to pull it off. Instead of berating myself, I was able to say, “I know I’m going to get it done. Just chill out and let it go.” As I said, I can’t always do it, but when I can, it’s such a relief.
It’s really hard to describe to people who don’t have depression/anxiety/death (that’s a joke)/PTSD/a neurodivergent brain. “Why don’t you just do the thing?” They are not asking out ofd malice/spite/anger (usually). It’s just ignorance, but it still hurts. I can see the disdain in their eyes and the impatience in their voice.
Why can’t you just pick up the phone and make that call? Why can’t you just write that paper? Why can’t you just go to bed at a reasonable time?
These are all fair questions. But as someone with a weird brain, there is no ‘just’ about it. Here’s how my brain works. Let’s take my nemesis–sleep.
Me at one or two: I should go to bed. TRy to get that sleep back on track.
My brain: I hear you, but what about Elden Ring? Why not just play it for a bit?
Me, after playing Elden Ring or another game for an hour or two, so it’s now three: I need to write my post and then go to bed.
My brain: Yeah, you do. But, you know, the web. You can browse it.
Me an hour or two later, so we’re talking four or five: Goddman. I still gotta write before I go to bed. (This is after writing the post.)
My brain: Why not watch some music videos and sing along with them?
Before i know it, it’s seven in the morning and I still haven’t gone to bed.
Oftentimes, it feels as if it’s a force outside my body that is commanding me to do whatever it wants.
I’m not trying to make excuses. I know it’s on me at the end of the day, but it’s so fucking hard. That’s why I make rules that become iron-clad because if I don’t follow them, I wont’ do the thing at all.
Fun fact: I used to take the Myers-Briggs every five years or so. I am a solid INF, but the TP? I split nearly 50-50 on that. I need to have my routines to get shit done, but I’m a free-wheeler in terms of thoughts and passions.
When I have to make a phone call, it can take several days for me to get it done. And in one case, months. See, this is one problem. I work to the end of a deadline so the more time I have, the longer I procrastinate.
That went wildly off the rails, but oh well. I may get back on track tomorrow.