I’m washed up. I’m a has-been. I’m out of my element. I’m no good. I might as well hang it up and call my editors. Tell them thanks but no thanks, I’m not good enough.
I don’t have writer’s block. Can’t. I mean, I’ve only been pursing this career for four years now. I can’t be blocked so soon, can I? Of course not. I have manuscripts on my computer, they just suck. Maybe I could go polish those babies up a bit (or a lot), or maybe I just need to go walk around the kitchen a little, see what’s good to eat. Chocolate always brings some clarity. Or coffee. Maybe I should go make a fresh pot.
I have these thoughts about once a month, if not more. Sound familiar to some of you? You don’t have to be a writer to feel this way. These feelings could come in any profession. Maybe because I am a writer, these feelings come more often than someone in say the medical field. I’ve often been told that those artistic types are a bit dramatic. Maybe that’s me-a bit dramatic. Nah.
Then, this morning, I’m in spin class spinning with the instructor from hell, Giselle. She’s telling me to push my feet faster and harder when it literally feels like my feet are pushing against bricks. I mean, really, how does she expect me to move a brick wall with my foot? But, she does, so I try, and as I’m pushing, and breathing and sweating a popular song comes on. Maybe you’ve heard it. Rachel Platten-Fight Song. The words to the song pushed me through the class, and my funk. Then a realization poured over me like my water bottle that at this point in the workout I wished I could have squirted all over my head. I haven’t worked out in a week because of life getting in the way. Working out always clears my mind of all those cobwebs and negative energy.
Rachel Platten says it so well. I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me, or in my case, a lot of words left in me.