Five days ago, I wrote over a thousand words in a sitting. When I started working on my story, I could get four or five hundred words per hour. I have almost doubled that if I am properly prepared and undistracted. It’s quite a rush to have that much improvement, even if it’s dreck. I think of it as a skeleton, I will rearrange it later.
However, as we head into winter, my depression has worsened. I am doing pretty much everything I can self-care wise but it is harder to concentrate and motivate myself. I’ll see a doctor tomorrow and we’ll tweak my medication. I’m also dealing with some sleeping problems that I need to get a dental device for. I’m waiting on a referral to go through to start that process. In the meantime, I have to be okay with reduced output. I am telling myself that writing thirty or three hundred words is enough. There’s no deadline, and my manuscript has gotten heftier than I thought it would! I am despairing about a few plot holes, and I’m trying to tell myself I’ll fix them later. They do tend to tangle me up when I’m writing: I know a character is preoccupied with something, but I can’t mention it because I don’t know what it is.
I’ll finish what I’ve come up with eventually, which means I get to edit it. This sounds exciting! While I continue to battle depression, though, I should expect a dropoff in productivity for writing reviews and my own story. There should be no shame in that.