I should be working on my next book. I have three in process right now. But, for the last few days I open the document after sitting down at my desk...and just stare at the screen.
I have a case of the blahs or maybe it's something more. This is my favorite time of year. Halloween, fall and then Christmas. I decorate and bake and generally go crazy for the whole holiday season but this morning I found myself thinking do I even want to put up the tree and stuff. The idea of having to just take it all down seeming just overwhelming. This isn't me.
Writing can be amazing. Self publishing can be stressful and little disappointments can eat away at you like a river cutting a new path.
If I'm being honest I am my own worst critic. My own enemy. I used to have the bad habit of not finishing things because I hated the idea of failure, of not being good enough.
So, here I am eight books in and I'm wondering if I'm good enough. Not necessarily questioning my writing but all the other stuff. The marketing and hundreds of other things indie authors do on their own.
I've given myself a certain amount of time and that end date sometimes seems to be looming closer than it should.