megwrites: A moon rising above a darkened landscape in front of a starry night sky. (moonrise)
[personal profile] megwrites
So, I had a thought while I was singing a cat themed version of "Can't Buy Me Love" to my cat, as you do.

Maybe one of my problems with writing lately isn't so much "oh god, is my work important enough to be worth writing at all", but that I've got some deeper things to think about.

Actually, let me rewind. Before the part where I belted out a Beatles tune at one of my pets, my mental health took an uptick. Why? Because I'm getting off of Effexor. Getting off of a bad med helps in so many ways. The depression is still there, and I'm still having a lot of the symptoms, but some of them have let up and I'm kind of on an upward trend.

If any of you ever have to step down from a drug like Effexor (which sucked for me, but has been a miracle drug for others, so take it as you will), I highly recommend making sure that your doctor prescribes you some kind of either anti-anxiety or sedative or sleep med to go with it if that's feasible for you.

I know some folks can't for various reasons. For me? Having xanax (or the acceptable generic version thereof) is not only a security blanket, but being able to come down from a panic attack in under six hours and be calm again is an amazing experience. I don't have to spend half my day crying and flapping my hands and wheezing!

My sleep still isn't where I want it to be, energy isn't either, I still have low points and the crying and the "wow, I'm a crap human being who's life will never get better and who will never do anything worthwhile I'm a burden to all the people I care about I should jump in traffic" type thoughts and the anxiety. But my brain is clearer. Not where it needs to be, but it's like driving in the rain.

It's gone from a torrential, I-can't-see-the-tail-lights-in-front-of-me downpour where no windshield wiper wrought by humankind could possibly keep up to a steady, slightly heavy rainfall. I'd like it to be sunny, but at least it's not coming a flood in Megville.

Thus, I've been able to sit down and start problemshooting what's going on with my writing, my depression, my creative processes (which lately have spit out material that is like unto velveeta - ie, serviceable and sturdy but not what I'd want to serve people I want to impress with my Major Skills given my druthers and all things being equal.

Note: No insult to Velveeta. Velveeta and Rotel is a mighty fine queso dip which I am quite fond of and which pairs well with any kind of alcohol, especially when consumed in large quantities.


All this contemplation has lead me to ask some questions and think of some things.

First, is that I think my writing is stymied by the conflict between wanting to really pour myself into my writing, to really own it and turn it into my writing and the belief that I and my experiences and who I am are not worthy of being in a story much less a story that other people will ever see. That's a mix of depression, I think, and good old fashioned self consciousness.

Second, I think I haven't answered some fundamental questions. One being, "Why do I love what I love? Why am I drawn to write certain things?"

For example: I love paranormal romance stories about sexy angels and their tempestuous, somewhat unhealthy relationships with supernaturally powered women? But why do I love it. Why do I love it enough to want to write my own story of that sort? What is about angels, the supernatural, strong women who kick ass that I love? Or vampires or aliens or whatever?

I mean, what is it that I think is so damn cool, so fucking awesome that I'd want someone to sit down and enjoy said type of novel?

Or for that matter, the speculative genre as a whole. Why fantasy fiction or any kind of SF/F? Also, romance, what do I really love about it? What is about telepathy that I like as a feature of some stories or the "stoic, seemingly heartless and cold person falls in love with someone their complete opposite who brings them out of their shell" trope in romance?

I'm still working on that bit, but it seems to me that maybe there's a lot to be mined there. Not just for my own fun, sport, and edification - but also as part of my writing.

I mean (for example) - if I just really fucking love space ships because I think anything that goes "pffwooooomfffffffff" in a big fiery ball and then goes into outer space is just the bee's knees, then focusing on the big fireballs and the power and wonderment of that much fuel and combustibility being harnessed to launch a multi-ton piece of aeronautics into the black abyss of space without blowing the shit out of everything in a ten mile radius is something I should focus on. Because it's what I'm excited about it. It's something that can be a theme in my work, something that I can bring to the table that maybe I see or think about in a way that's new or surprising to others.

So that's my thought for today. And my excuse for an update. May it serve you well and in good health.

TL;DR: Mental health is getting better. It's important to think about why you write stuff and also to sing to cats. But especially the bit about the cats. No great writer ever succeeded without first singing a beloved popular rock song to a cat. Though I might not advise singing "Mrs. Robinson" to a lion or anything. They're universally known to hate folk-rock. It's Queen or nothing for the mighty king of the beasts. THIS IS A COMPLETELY TRUE FACT. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP AT ALL.
Anonymous (will be screened)
OpenID (will be screened if not validated)
Identity URL: 
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


If you are unable to use this captcha for any reason, please contact us by email at

Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags