I’m supposed to be writing.
I have a deadline. It’s not even self-imposed this time; I need to have a certain writing project complete in a certain amount of time, and it should be easy to do so.
Instead I’m sitting here staring at a screen. The worlds of brilliant color I should be creating are instead gray. My family is puttering around. My oldest son is asking me what’s wrong. I should be helping my wife if I’m not writing.
The last few days I’ve been riding high. I’ve been generally excited about things. Some things fell into place with my writing and talking to various publishers (nothing I can share publicly yet, but announcements should be coming). The writing I’m supposed to be doing was coming freely. I wove worlds vivid with hues I longed to share.
And about two hours ago, the bottom fell out.
I should have known. I should have seen it. It’s a pattern, you see.
I have depression. Continue reading “Gray Worlds”