I have a friend that fairly recently said, "Thank you for always being so positive." And when she said it, I was.
And I'm feeling guilty for not being that person anymore. I'm funky, y'all. I know, yeah, whatever, I'm pregnant and hormonal, blah blah blah. It's more than that.
It's the book. I truly am stuck. Today is the first time I've picked it up to work on it in a couple of weeks. I hate it. I mean, HATE. It's not what it's supposed to be. That, I know. I just don't know what to do about it. I am afraid that I won't get anything productive done on it before Nano. Part of me shrugs at that, but another part of me still feels that urgency. Then, there's this other part that says, "Jusssssssst letttitttttttt goooooooo." I'm no writer, y'all. I'm not. I'm a fraud. I am convinced. A writer would know what to do. Or would have some ideas. Or would recognize when something looks good. REading this book is like hearing my voice on an answering machine. Uncomfortable. I want to walk away. I want to finish it, send it off and THEN walk away. I want to quit. But I'm not very good at quitting. Instead, I just play Spider Solitaire, listen to old Amy Grant music and cry. I dip back into the manuscript every third hand or so I lose. I change a sentence or a paragraph and that's all I seem to be able to take before I run back to Solitaire to hide.
It's also this thing in my belly. I'm cramping. Not the contraction-type of cramping where I KNOW I'm about to miscarry. Just that dull ache that makes me feel like I'm about to start my period. And there was some pink stuff when I went to the bathroom. Not blood. I know not to get freaked out until I see real blood. But I worry a little anyway. Part of me says, "Oh well, wasn't meant to be..... again." Another part of me says, "Shut up, Bitch. That aint miscarriage blood. It's just pink dishcarge cuz you were constipated yesterday. Don't go holding the funeral service yet." I am pretty bipolar, so I should be used to two parts of me duking it out, but I'm not. It's only adding to the funk.
okay, I have other things to say but most of them are negative. I'll spare us both.