Well, I'm almost done with work for today—thank God.
I literally counted every second of those 12 hours.
It wasn't even a hellish day or anything. I played games, goofed around, and ate way too much. My belly is so full right now. You don't care about that, but hey, I thought you should know.
Right now, I'm not even feeling down. Actually, I'm thinking about what to write in Red Notes and Kisses today. Starting a novel is always exciting. But finishing it? That's a whole different beast.
I don't believe in writer's block, but I do believe in exhaustion. Writers get tired of their own work. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I've only completed three books in my life, and each one took me an entire year. A. WHOLE. YEAR.
And here's the kicker—this is my depression/crash-out diary, and I still don't know if anyone even gives a crap about reading this. Silent readers? The bane of my existence.
Seriously, say something!
How am I supposed to know if you like something if you don't say anything? It's so discouraging when you beg for feedback, and all you get is silence. At least if someone said, "Hey, today's chapter was trash," I'd feel something.
Give me a critique. A suggestion. A "Nice chapter!" I'm begging.
The views? Sure, they go up, but views aren't everything. A single comment—just one—can make someone's day. It's a little validation that says, "Hey, you're not shouting into the void. Someone's listening."
But silence? Oh, silence feels like spite.
Huff, huff, huff…okay, I'm done crashing out now. You can ignore me again. Or maybe…just maybe, drop a comment?