
It wouldn't have been so bad if my (usually) trusty netbook computer had been working correctly. Usually when partaking of a few beers my mood is elevated, my imagination and enthusiasm are stimulated and I often get a lot of useful writing completed. But with the computer playing up, added to the ‘downer’ that comes after such a binge I have this overwhelming sense of remorse, having wasted so much time. Yes, I could have switched to pen and paper, which is how the first two books started out life, but to tell the truth, for a while, recently, I seem to have exhausted pretty much all my reserves of enthusiasm. I think this is partly due to the way that sorting out the story-flow of the new book – bearing in mind that the work now represents well over a year of writing, on and off - seems to have become such an insurmountable task. It has become a real ‘monster’ and undoubtedly, in hindsight, overambitious; with the result that at present it exists as a series of disjointed vignettes (if exciting vignettes, I guess – though to be honest all the focus required as led to my becoming more than a little jaded).
Well, here I am, full of ant-depressants. The herbal remedy, St Johns Wort, usually works for me whereas the SSRI type things the doctors often prescribe - Prozac and the ilk - don't do much for me. So I am on buckets of the stuff and forcing myself down the gym, as that often helps. To be honest it is always a little like this at this time of the year with the shortening hours of daylight – just not usually this bad.
