On November 1st, I mentioned that I’d be burning out like a shooting star rushing through the night sky on its way to extinction. Yes, I’m trying to sound cute. Also, guess what? I feel them coming: the mental fog, the drain, the drag.

It isn’t only about crafting too many sentences per day (aside from NaNoing, I’m also editing). My day job keeps me busy. And I have the unbecoming vice of striving to leave no email unanswered (at least the work-related ones). Maybe I’m exercising too much as well. Now that I write this I realize I have yet another vice: I spread myself too thin and all over the place.

Point is: I’m tired. Not so much physically as I’m in need of peace, of silence, of time. I have many hours to live each day, and yet most of them go wasted at work. At least work feeds, dresses and houses me. It also allows me to travel. I should stop complaining and get back to work, shouldn’t I? I could be writing instead of blogging. I could take a day off. I need to sleep an extra hour, or ten, today.

I should shut up.

I won’t. This is my blog. Where else am I supposed to cry?

I’m about 500 words behind with my NaNo word count. But worry not: I’ll probably make up for that today or tomorrow.

Perhaps this mental space I’m in is linked to the fact that I must edit my completed manuscript—yet again (yay!). The fear of not nailing those final edits is freezing my veins: I’m afraid of having absolutely no one tell me that my fucking book “is a marvel and I love it!!! (insert here a string of excited/loved-up emojis)” Above all, I wonder if it’ll ever get published. I’m not used to seeking validation, so those thoughts/feelings are deeply unsettling to me.

I spend lots of sentences telling people not to focus on publishing but on enjoying their writing, dancing with their characters, having a wild creative ride. But those words are void cheers and chants: cliché encouragement in lieu of the advice I don’t have.

Every once in a while I realize I need to step away from social media. That I don’t need nor want to listen to the publishing news, the pressure, and the noise.

I need to write without thinking about anything besides the story at hand. Or the one I’m trying to find.