Sometimes You Do, Sometimes You Don’t

I wasn’t sure I was going to get any writing done this week. I thought I might write an entire novel. Realistically, I figured it’d be somewhere between those two extremes. And hey, I was right!

This week I presented at a conference for Christian artists. I was speaking on the necessity of vulnerability in your art. I used my openness with depression as an example, and talked about the benefits of being vulnerable.

I was very grateful that the conference kept the evenings open. No presentations, keynotes, nothing in the evening. You want to grab dinner with someone? You want to escape to your hotel room? Whatever. You do you.

When I saw that, I figured… hey! I could get some writing done!

And I was right! I got five thousand words written in two hours before the conference opened. Sweet! That’s a pretty good rate! And I had two more hours to do more writing after that day’s conference activities.

So off I trundled to the conference. I presented for the first out of two times. I enjoyed music and storytelling and an amazing painter who walked us through six of her massive projects. Seriously, I am in awe of those who can work with their hands to create art. I don’t have that gift!

And then I came back to the hotel, and… nothing. I didn’t have the energy to write more. I was also really tired.

Well, no big deal. I’d had a great morning of writing. I could write more on the morrow!

So I went to bed early and got ten hours of sleep. Way more than normal, but certainly not a bad thing. I got up the next day… but not refreshed. I headed down to the hotel lobby for breakfast and almost wept the entire way. (Why? Because depression hates you, that’s why.) I plodded back to the room and took a three-hour depression nap. I missed the morning sessions, and by the time I was up, I didn’t have the heart to get to the conference for the afternoon sessions. Thankfully I wasn’t presenting that day.

And all day—well, when I was awake—I yelled at myself. If I wasn’t going to the conference, I might as well get writing done. After all, there were no kids here to distract me. No other duties. Just go write!

And I didn’t. Instead, I watched a lot of pointless Youtube.

Woo. Go me.

The next day I was still down, but at least functional. I made it to the conference. I made my last presentation. I attended a few other great sessions. I networked. All good.

And now I’m home and exhausted from the goodness of the conference, of seeing old friend and meeting new ones, and recovering fro the depressive episode.

Some writing got done. Some writing didn’t.

And that… is simply life. I make it a habit to write most days. Some days I get a lot done. Other days I get nothing done.

My writing friends, if you write, you’re a writer. Even as you write, understand you’ll have good days and bad days. Some days you may write most of a book. And then for the next few you’re lucky to produce a sentence.

It’s okay. Keep moving. Write when you’re able; rest when you can’t.

Now if you excuse me, I can write at the moment. Time to take advantage of it.