Right now, I am in a terribly bad place (not a great way to start a post, but there it is). It isn’t depression, thank god for that, but I have over the last few weeks become the crabbiest old grandma you ever did see. I’m tired and I have zero enthusiasm for anything I’m doing or have ever done. Or even for life in general. This is frustrating. It is not my natural state of being. It is even more frustrating because every single one of the projects I am working on is amazing in its own way, and the people with whom I am working or will be working with are brilliant and inspiring and every good thing you could ever want in a person. No, the problem is definitely me. The problem is one faced by creative people everywhere.

As creatives, we usually have no shortage of good ideas. There are times, however, when inspiration and motivation elude us. Looming deadlines, fussy clients, uninteresting projects, or feelings of fatigue which suggest the onset of burnout: all of these can work to effectively extinguish our creative fire.

Today I came across this wonderful article on A List Apart: Reigniting Your Creative Spark. Wonderful, and obviously very timely. Looming (and missed) deadlines I’ve got. Feelings of fatigue — I could sleep for a week and still want more. My previous post was entirely too ambitious and I never should have challenged the universe by stating out loud that I was anywhere near the light. I can see it, yes, but I’m now convinced that has more to do with brightness than distance.

“A de-energized state may actually be our neurological system indicating that we’re squandering energy on the wrong goals.”

This statement rings true, but I don’t think I can separate my goals into wrong and right. My goals all involve making books and related activities. The books are sound, and putting my energy towards their completion is not wrong in any way. So what is this “wrong” thing upon which I am squandering my energy? I do not know, but it bears thinking about.

“Frequently, at the root of a debilitating creative paralysis which cripples our imaginations is negative stress from perceived pressure from external sources, fear of failure, and a sense of danger.”

Later on the author asks,

“Are you using your voice—that is, expressing your talents and ideas in your unique style—or are you trying to shape your style into something that is more of what you feel you’re “supposed” to do because that’s what everyone else does?”

Here is the sticker. Perhaps I’m squandering my energy on worry about the wrong things, because yes, I most certainly am trying to shape my style into what I feel I’m “supposed” to do because that is what everyone else does. And — to put it mildly — it is doing my head completely in. This kind of thinking goes against everything I believe in and hold true. Publishing is the culprit. Every once in a while I need a reminder that I am first and foremost an artist, with writer coming in at a close second. I keep trying to hold Papaveria up to what small presses in the genre do and are, and I keep trying to do what small presses do and I forget that I am one woman working alone. I forget that Papaveria is a micro-press (a distinction I am quick to point out to everyone else but me). I forget that the whole purpose of Papaveria is produce beautiful books. Not best-sellers, not chart-toppers, not ebooks, not thousands of books… If those things happen, great. But they are not the point. (Self, take note: I have none of these issues with Hadean Press. It’s only Papaveria. Why?)

Yesterday someone asked me if any media outlets had shown particular interest in one of my titles and I just broke down and cried. I don’t even know what a “media outlet” is. I had to look it up. I don’t speak that language. It made me feel very small. It made me wonder why I bother. If I don’t even speak the language, I should not be in the game. And as far as interest goes, sometimes I think there are all of four people out there who notice what I do. (This is not true and I know it.)

“How long has that troll inner critic been squatting under your proverbial creativity bridge, snuffing out great ideas before they see the light of day, occupying valuable space in your brain and your life? If we allow him to, he will gleefully drain every remnant of our valuable professional super powers to fuel his maleficent aims. Part of our great challenge is to triumph over the nefarious inner critic as he works relentlessly to alter our ability to see ourselves as competent and capable professionals.”

The other day an author whose work I greatly admire wondered if a certain type of her work was good enough. I nearly choked on my coffee. This inner critic gets us all. It’s important to remember that the inner critic is just one internal voice among many. It certainly becomes the loudest for me when I am tired and stressed. It is fine to doubt one’s craft with questions such as “is this thread tight enough” or “is this paper really the right color” or “is this the right glue for the job” or “surely there’s a better word”. These kinds of doubt create opportunities to learn and grow. It is not fine to doubt one’s self. That kind of doubt is destructive and stifling. I know all of this. We all know all of this. And yet that stupid voice tells us something else.

I have the stupidest voice in the whole universe in my head right now. I have a suspicion that some of this has to do with nerves regarding tomorrow’s citizenship ceremony, so until that’s done and I can re-assess, I’m just going to keep on keeping on.

“As humans we are optimized to work: we are happier working hard than we are relaxing. More satisfying work comes from clear missions, a clear path to the desired outcomes, reliable feedback on our progress, and valued non-material rewards.”