For the last two weeks, whenever I've sat down in front of the computer to write, it was to write my thesis - something that (ultimately) earns me money. My current novel in progress - which I'll be lucky to see any money for in approximately three years time - is on the backburner. I haven't even touched my notebook on it. And I'm going nuts. I feel antsy, like when I don't do anything physical other than trudging from the sofa to the kitchen for three days. There's all this creative energy bubbling inside me, aching to be used, and I keep pushing it away. Now it's demanding to be used. The last two nights I dreamed about writing and the book, which has never happened before. I don't even register people talking to me because I'm deeply in trance about my story. I have this deadline-feeling, even though I haven't even set myself one, but not being able to write is just making me... on edge.
This blog post so far doesn't even make much sense. Definitely not one of my shining stars. But I think it perfectly demonstrates my mysery and frustration, and the gnawing-the-steering-wheel set of my mind.
I can't not (novel-) write. Not even for two weeks.
Amazing, really. A miracle. Not only to have this "gift" (the future will tell whether I'm really all that gifted), but to know what it is, to be able to use it, to live it. To know that maybe someday I can share it by publishing my stories. Even if I don't, it enriches my life because it's what I enjoy doing most. I can live my dream.
So I will, thesis be damned. The thesis is important, but it's 'only' the thing that earns me some money - which is necessary, of course, but it's not what makes me happy. And I need to be happy to write a good thesis/be good at my job. Vicious circle. The circle of happiness.
From this day on, I'll start novel-writing again, at least an hour a day. If I don't, I'll end up in one of these...
... instead of feeling like this:
Find your Circle of Happiness. Live it. Enjoy it.
What else is life for?
On that note, don't miss this this blog post.
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