The Letdown

I feel sad.

I just wrote something that took a lot of effort.  And now it's turned in.

That's the Letdown.

Whenever I write something, especially the first draft of a new play but really anything, I feel like shit afterwards.  I guess it's kind of a writer's postpartum depression.  It happened.  And now it's done.

What do I do now?

Usually, I eat to numb the pain.  Usually, I'll reward myself with ice cream or a hamburger or something I've been denying myself.

Today, I went to the Korean Spa.  I just wanted to be stripped away of everything.  I didn't want to be home because I had been home writing in a cave for the past several days.  I wore the same clothes.  I took occasional showers.

The spa was fitting because it was a cleansing.  And I had decided to do something crazy while I was writing this time.  I went on a cleanse.  Usually when I'm writing I have "brain food."  By the way, I did notice that my reward for the letdown is the same as my reward for having to write.

Fran Lebowitz (can't go a few posts without mentioning her) says in Public Speaking that writers are self-destructive to punish themselves for playing God.

That's why my first impulse when I knew I had this big writing stretch was to go out and buy cigarettes.

But I didn't do that.  I went out and bought a juice cleanse from Costco.  I made meals that often had spinach in them.  Tonight I had lentils and butternut squash.  I did the lemon and cayenne thing.  I decided to take away my "comfort foods" and my "comfort habits."

Am I saying that the key to good writing is discomfort?

It made me focused.  It got me to trim the fat.  And it gave me something to focus on other than my anxiety about writing.

I woke up.
I drank the lemon, cayenne and cherry drink in the morning.
Then I had to plan my meals.
I had a mid-morning snack.
Then lunch.
Then a mid-day snack.
Then dinner.

I had to prep all of this stuff.  So every three hours I was getting up and doing something.  It focused me.

And now I have this let down.  I guess what's different this time is that I know it will pass.

I just need to let it happen.  And sleep it off.

And maybe stop writing.  Just until morning.