a snake eating its tale

[pythiawrites]

Dedicating myself to writing more fiction over the summer is something that I have tried to do for the last 18 summers. I've always had other things going on that pulled my focus from the story that I wanted to tell at that time. Part-time jobs, work commitments, or professional development for my CV. This summer has been totally cleared because those previous summers were not restful or productive enough for me to feel like it was worth missing out on my personal life. The projects I haven't finished or started to work on follow me around like little ghosts. I have felt stressed and sad about that. Then, a writer I admire talked about how difficult it was for them to be teaching full-time and writing full time. Even after 20 years, they could not do both at 100%. Hearing this really made me feel a lot better about literally everything. I have so many unconscious expectations of myself that are totally ridiculous. They don't help me be more creative or joyful. Instead, they hold me back. And then I get upset at myself. An ouroboros of misery and shame.