Crash And Burn

I've had some sort of crisis. I couldn't face writing again. I could barely drag myself out of bed in the mornings. I couldn't enjoy anything. I stopped reading. I couldn't even watch a dvd like Avengers Assemble without falling asleep. I couldn't concentrate on anything.
I'm getting better now, slowly. I took a few days off from work, and more or less slept around the clock. I bought myself Stephen King's 'Salem's Lot- I felt like I had to buy myslf something, a book or a dvd or a cd, to somehow jumpstart the process. When I saw it in the bookshop, I decided there and then to buy it. I'd read his On Writing, which is brilliant, but never any of his actual fiction, apart from a couple of his short stories. I'm on the second chapter now, and so far it's been rather good.
My wife was wonderful throughout all this, calm and understanding. I went to see the doctor, who upped my dosage of anti-depressant more or less on the spot, which was interesting. This morning, I go back to work. They, too, have been bloody good to me.
Ironically, all this has happened at a time when my legal problem looks like being wound up. Maybe I've started grieving properly for my dad; and maybe it's all a part of a new beginnng. Maybe 2014 is going to be a better year.
I've started collecting newspaper stories again. The silly little human interest stories. Not cutting them out of actual newspapers, but cutting and pasting the online versions. And I've begun writing again. Morning pages, as in Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way. And writing practise, as in Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down The Bones. All with the vague aim of writing something else apart from horror.
I've also gone potty about Sapphire And Steel- check out Assignment Two on Youtube. Slowly, slowly, it's all coming together again.


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