A Confession

I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. I fell asleep upright (thank goodness this is a work-from-home day) and I’m not yet awake even though I’m writing this. I guess I am a coffee addict.

Back to Writing

I have arrived back home after a week of road tripping to New York Hope and back, and after a 14-hour nap, I am back to writing. I have a short story to finish, and then maybe I will start another short story.

I’m writing short stories lately because I’m all noveled out, and because I need some shorter compositions for entering for publication and contests. The last story I had published was in Fall 2023 by Flying Ketchup Press, Inner Child. This story answers the perennial question, “What if my inner child is a brat?”

I need some inspiration for short stories. Perhaps a trip to Starbucks, but not today. I’m still recovering from the trip. That’s life after 60.

It’s Only Wednesday

… and I’m exhausted.

It could be three trips to St. Joseph in four days. It could be my escapades in St. Joe chasing a wayward cart flying down the street in 90-degree weather. It could be waiting for what the doctor is going to do about my mildly leaky heart, if anything. It could be the fact that my dear little Pumpkin kept me up doing heaven knows what last night. It could be the time of the semester, or it could be the time of year (a nap and pumpkin spice sound lovely.)

I Need Something to Wake Me Up

I mean that title metaphorically, not in the coffee sense.

I have become sleepy lately (extending the metaphor). No Big Audacious Goals, just work and writing on a novel I’m afraid is sleepwalking across the countryside. No exciting plans this summer. No tempting opportunities. Nothing that gives my soul a psychic jolt of caffeine (this extended metaphor is getting silly).

I know I should be able to wake myself up, but inertia is so difficult to break. Which is why I need an assist from the Universe. I want this to be a good morning wake up, not a wake-up call in the colloquial sense, or a wake up and smell the coffee. A good gentle shake, or a cat plopping on my chest. Or fireworks, I’d take fireworks. Or someone yelling from the doorway.

In the meantime, I will see if I can make myself that metaphorical coffee.

Taking Care of Myself

I’m getting old.

Monday night I stayed up a couple hours late doing some prepping for my classes. I had to adapt my lecture slide shows to make them more pedagogically effective, and I had until Thursday to get the first few slide shows done. Being an overachiever, I instead completed all fifteen weeks’ worth on Monday. I did not take care of myself.

I got through Tuesday’s work completing the other class, falling asleep sitting up. Now I’m on Wednesday, the day before my classes start, and I’m totally wiped out despite a good night’s sleep on Tuesday night.

I feel like I did when I was younger and got only three hours of sleep a night, which was not uncommon given that I hung out with computer programmers. I used to walk around like this all the time, and I do not know how I got through college this way. Or life.

Today I’ll be taking care of myself. A nap on the couch, some leisurely writing, and a promise to myself that I will not be staying up past my bedtime again.

Too tired for Christmas

The semester is almost over, and I am tired.

Last week, I graded three major assignments and a handful of smaller ones. I fielded last minute requests, including two students who are just getting their spring semester internships put together. The Curriculum and Degree Requirements committee meeting went on forever.

I have written nothing this week — actually, the last couple of weeks — because I have been so tired. When I’m not working, I’m listening to Christmas music and surfing r/niceguys and reminiscing about my dating years. (I’m mostly joking.)

Next week, all I have to grade are the essay questions in the exams, and that shouldn’t take too long because they’re very short essays. Then I submit the grades. I should be done grading by Friday. Friday seems so. far. away.

All of this exposition about my time is for one purpose — to make the case that I am too tired for Christmas spirit. I’m sitting at Starbucks right now listening to Christmas music and wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. I just lost Whamageddon without realizing it. There is a Christmas romance I need to write and I’m not inspired. I’m not quite Bah Humbug here, but I’m about ready for a long winter nap.

And then, after a couple days of vegging out while listening to the Grinch soundtrack, I should be ready for the season.

Profound isn’t happening

I’m trying for profound this morning, but it isn’t happening. What is happening is that I am falling asleep at my keyboard. While typing. And I’m still hitting the right keys. But that only lasts for so long before my words go into gibberish. It is not possible to sleep and type at the same time, at least not for long.

It makes me wonder if I could sleep and go to work at the same time. I doubt it, because the paying attention to students part will be difficult with my eyes closed. And then what happens when I start dreaming?

The coffee isn’t working

I’m drinking my daily cup of coffee, and it’s not waking me up. No jolt, no feeling of invigoration, nothing of the sort. I want my money back.

I don’t know why

I don’t know why I’m so tired today. I got a good night’s sleep and an afternoon nap. I’m not been doing anything too strenuous except teaching, but yes, that’s strenuous. So is existing with 107-degree heat indexes. So, okay, maybe I do know why.

Pushing myself

Not much I can do but push myself. Get ready for work, drive myself in and walk to my office, meet with students, teach classes. Find a lunch at the Student Union. And hopefully, in the middle of this, I will wake up.

I hope.

Lazy Sunday

I can’t reach escape velocity

My mind is simultaneously antsy and lazy — I should be DOING something! I have an exam to grade! I could be creating advertising materials for my book! I should be — my brain can’t focus. I feel like laying in my bed all day watching House episodes on my phone.

The tired part — end of the school year

I understand the tired part — I just got off a full semester without any Spring Break, after a year of severely restricted activity due to COVID. I made it without more than one or two sick or mental health days all year (due to the ability to teach over Zoom). With finals all that are left, I find myself slumping my shoulders and relaxing.

The antsy part — in need of flow

It occurs to me that the antsy part is the craving for flow. Flow is a psychological concept that refers to the state of being completely captivated in an activity that uses your abilities at an optimal level. Writing is a flow activity for me, as is editing. Designing (with my limited abilities) is another. Most of my flow activities happen at a computer and fit in with my writing, which is probably why I write.

No challenge is optimal when I’m just coming off a brain-numbing school year. I’ve been challenged out. I’m still dealing with three exams to grade this week and unhappy students.

Antsy part 2 — in search of accomplishment

Another part of my always needing to do something is the feeling of satisfaction I get from accomplishment. I delight in making things happen. I love finishing a chapter, a novel, a cover letter. I get motivated by the finished product as well as the process (the flow). Again, my mind is having none of that.

How to take care of myself

This is a time where perhaps doing nothing (or next to nothing) would be the best thing to do. It’s hard for me to do, because I’m always trying to wrap myself in flow activities and completing projects when I’m not working. Although I’m addicted to flow and accomplishment, maybe I could use something more relaxing but inspiring like daydreaming or meditating. Or maybe I should just read reruns of House and see if I can diagnose those disorders.

Tired

I’m so tired.

I’m in the end stretch, with final exams to be graded Monday and Thursday, and office hours online all week. It’s not going to be too hard, but I still wish it was all over.

I get it. I’m getting older, old enough that I reminisce about Christmas past and old music. Old enough that I would like to do nothing except write till January. (And celebrate Christmas). Old enough that I don’t feel younger than my age anymore. Old enough that I don’t imagine younger men getting crushes on me. I have become a more sedate version of myself. And, after this semester, a more tired one.

I would like my heart to be lighter. This may not be the year, and perhaps what I need is a reprieve from work rather than joy.

I don’t feel like writing (personal)

Not in the Mood Today
I have two ideas for short stories, and one novella (or a short story, I don’t know) and I don’t feel like writing yet.

I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I’m editing from beta readers’ suggestions for two novels and I want to get some queries out! I have two months before I can query again.

The Wise Advice Someone Gave Me
I really should take the advice someone (I don’t remember his name!) gave me at Archon (a writers’ conference in St. Louis): I should concentrate more on short stories and poetry and submit them in contests and for publication,

I’ve been submitting, using Submittable as a platform for finding and submitting my works. I’ve had a 10% response rate, which I consider good. I’ve noticed, strangely, that my work is received better overseas. Not so strangely, I’ve noticed that I don’t score so high with literary journals

I’m Tired
It may be the weather or seasonal depression or something, but I’m really tired right now. The moment I get more beta reader feedback, I’ll wake up and modify my novel like a maniac.

And there’s always coffee.