Being on (anti) high cholesterol meds makes me feel like I’ve had a lobotomy. Not that I’ve ever actually had one. And with my strong reaction to drugs, I was only on said medicine for two weeks — a half-month lobotomy. During those horrid two weeks, I was unenthusiastic, uncaring, unfeeling, uncreative, un-me. I got things done, making a list each day and checking it off, but I couldn’t think to write, and didn’t have any desire to read. (Are you writers freaking out at this as much as I did?) I finally figured that I’m mortal, and was going to die sometime, whether I was on meds or not. So I’d try to be a good girl and mind my diet and exercise and then naturally bring down my bad cholesterol count.
Exploring this lobotomy feeling, I’ve realized that when I am stressed or have many things “on my plate,” that I don’t make the time or energy for writing lots, like I’d love to do. It’s like I have a lobotomy all over again. A stress-caused lobotomy. These are times when I wake to do things through the day, checking off things, not wanting to do any of them, but knowing they must be done.
So… How does one write during these lobotomy (no time or no enthusiasm periods)? You write, anyway. It’s not writer’s block where you stare at a blank screen. It’s not distraction time where you check your email or FaceBook page several times in a day. It’s writing in spite of everything. You write because you’re a writer. You’re a writer because you feel alive when you write. When you complete a scene, and tears streak your face, you’re a writer. When you look at said scene the next day and don’t feel any emotion and realize there are mega revisions or deletions ahead, you’re a writer.
We write through it all — drugs, storms, moves, deaths, depression, anger, sheer joy. So, you writer who is reading this, go write a scene (or verse) right now before you do anything else. Go on. What are you waiting for?