Writer’s Update: I’m Shit

Self-loathing is at a rather reverberating all time high.


I was so on-point as a writer last month. Sunrise mornings where I did my routine, bashed out a blog post, then started to work on other writing projects.


Days full of writing and reading—the best ingredients in the pursuit of my writing career.

cozy fireplace of pellet stove

My housesit workspace in Tuscany…If I could just get back there…

Then I returned to the States.

In two weeks I’ve slept in seven different places (alone, thank you.)

I’ve seen a solid double-handful of friends that I usually don’t see in years. Spent time with family. Caught a wedding. Worked with my friend’s social media account at Rheos Gear

But I haven’t written except for my daily post wake-up brain dump pages. 90% of the time, I haven’t even had my computer (gasp!)


The glaring problem with being a self-employed writer: I’m not working.

I try to tell myself that the explorations and relationships I’m strengthening are all fodder for future creative pursuits. Indirect “work.”

But I still feel like a piece of sh*t.

All successful writers and entrepreneurs say that the main thing is to persevere. I have absolutely dropped the ball.

But here I am. My brain is cloudy from being so un-grounded and over-socialized, but I’m writing this whiney post just so you know that I know I’m sucking.

clouds rolling in on hills over village in tuscany

Speaking of cloudy…how ‘bout that housesit? Just make me isolated again, writing gods!

It will have to go on, though, for I have a house to pack up. Since I have no income, I have to sublease it. Have to divide up the stuff I’m taking with me (to where??) and the stuff that stays behind (when will I be back??). The yard sale stuff, the donation stuff, the throw-aways.

I’m taking the steps toward being a writer, let’s hope I’m not lead off a cliff.

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