Today’s Word Count (actual/goal): 1052/1000
Total Word Count So Far (after edits, all days included, blah-blah): 11,031
I wrote about 300 words yesterday but didn’t get the chance to blog.
One of the shitty things about being bipolar (this may come across as an unintentional humblebrag, please hold on to your butts) is that a lot of different project ideas just pour into your brain when you’re in pretty much any mood but horrifyingly depressed. Whatever I plop out and call art is powered by hypomanic swings of joy and energy, but it’s never acutely focused on one thing, so I end up squirreling things. You know, writing for a bit then screaming “Squirrel!” and spending the next three hours thinking about how cool it would be to learn bass guitar. I believe bipolar disorder, or whatever specific mood disorder afflicts me, is a halfway-close relative to ADHD. That’s not a joke, that a probability. And when you need to buckle down, like I’d absolutely flat-out no-shit love to do on this novel, the new ideas for dog-based paintings, Leper-based poetry cycles, trombone resumptions, drawn and digital broadsides, conservative-pundit parody satires, and backyard Stonehenge construction really get in the goddamn way. It’s frustrating, and fun as shit, but frustrating. Also the brain works like this for anything not just creativity so hip-hip hooray I can’t stop thinking about all the embarrassing things from high school and the state of our country!
What’s my conservative-pundit parody satire character, you ask? LUSH RIMJOB. Thank you, folks, I’ll be here all week.
That’s all. Best of luck to you and yours, my effervescent love muffins.