Pulling Up the Covers

Why is it that the day or two after I finish something I want to pull the covers over my head and go into hibernation?

It never changes. I've even written about it several times this year since I've been remarkably productive this year so far. It just hits me like a mack truck, this depression.  I go deep into it right away. Is this necessary?

I should just know better and plan on doing something else the first few days after I finish something. It's not like this is the final draft. I've got other things I need to be working on.

And I should focus on the positive. I've gotten my fifth script done this year.  By the end of the month, I will have a more solid draft of this script written, the official first draft. But this is my quick draft. I got it done in four days. I should be proud of that. I should be dancing from rooftops. But instead, I'm in my office feeling so stuck and feeling like such a failure. Why is that? I just wrote a 59 page script in four days. And I wrote an outline in a day before that. And a treatment in a week before that. This is what I hate about being a writer that I am so hard on myself. But I have bought into the feeling that writing is suffering. If I'm happy then that means that I haven't pushed myself hard enough.

But it also means that I have given something of myself to write this script. That it has a cost. If it was so easy to write then I wouldn't feel like I had sacrificed part of myself. These are the things that I tell myself, that it's more real because I feel sadness after I'm finished.

And now what? I finished this writing challenge of writing something new in a month in four days. Yes, I want to really craft this story document. I want to make it really wonderful. I want to get into the world of these characters more deeply. I now have something I can submit to the Sundance TV lab next year if I need to. I have accomplished so much and this should make me feel so happy. But I still focus on the feeling of being unproductive. And this year has been anything but unproductive.

Yet I still return to that place of not wanting to come off as someone who has accomplished things. As someone who feels good about what they've accomplished because I might rub people the wrong way. So instead I punish myself. I punish myself by having a cigarette. I punish myself by having a drink.

I know this is a great thing and a great accomplishment. So I should reset my goals for the year. I have time to get my research done for this play I want to write in February. But should I maybe try to write something else new this year? I have the time to do it. It would be a smart thing to do. I still have some ideas left. I have the time to make this sample so much better than it is. It is, after all, just the first draft. Maybe that's my personal challenge:

To write a polished pilot script in a month.

There's still room to grow and to push. If I accomplished that one challenge I had for myself, maybe there's a new challenge ahead of me. Instead of stopping, I can keep going.

My mood is starting to change. I'm still hungry though.

Maybe that's a good thing.

I am grateful for speed.
I am grateful for this feeling of not being satisfied.
I am grateful for the reminder to push harder.