It's been almost a month since I've written a goddamn thing.
I failed out of NaNoWriMo because of my health, for the first time in six years. I've always "won" it but at great cost and with almost nothing usable at the end. Plus I'm so stressed and ill during it that I'm not fit to live with. Friends, family, and lovers have begged and bribed me not to do it yet I've done it anyway. Conceding hurt. Conceding that meant giving this disease another piece of myself.
Besides that, I buckled under the pressure of what's expected of an Indie Author for success. Everything I've read about it jumps up and down on the topic of platform. I've got to tweet. I need a nice website. Blogging is essential. I have to e-mail market. I have to get my "brand" out there. All before I even finish and try to sell my first book. Or I'll fail.
Jesus fucking Christ, people. I can barely feed myself and keep the house halfway sanitary most of the time. I'm goddamn chronically ill. The only reason I haven't ended up in the hospital is that the doctors admit they don't know much about CFS and wouldn't know how to treat me.
And I'm supposed to what?!
So I've been really discouraged and my anxiety has kicked into high gear. I'm ace at not showing it, but those who really know me have noticed I'm not myself. I'm breaking. I don't break. I crack, sometimes, but I don't break. I can't let myself break.
I've got to shove this all aside. I've got to quit freaking out about it.
I've got to just... write.