Considering all the free time I had today, it’s a little disappointing that I barely had 300 words in me for the entire day, especially when I consider that I’m striving hard to pump myself into 500 or more words each day for the month of September; hopefully I’ll be able to bump it to a full one thousand a day.
I feel myself coming round to a specific curve on my emotional cycle where I’m not really sure what I should be doing and have difficulty setting proper tasks for myself. Normally the cycle will be a normal flow of inspiration and purpose, then a sharp drop in motivation where I feel blank and incapable of thought, then comes a low point where I’m ready to start writing morose poetry to describe my mind, then a huge spike in creativity and drive where I can write for ten hours straight without realizing it, and after that spike, I come back down to a blank stage before coming round to the normal flow of inspiration again. I’m definitely back to that blank stage, but the problem with this cycle is that I’ve no idea how long any particular stage lasts or what spurs one to move into the next. I suppose for now, it’s well enough that I’m able to identify the cycle in hopes that my future self will have some inkling for what I do the things I do.
I wrote just 305 words tonight (he had collected from the Internet), but even though I wrote very little, I managed to neaten my kitchen and plan to make it the third room in the house, after my living room and bedroom, to which I delved an entire weekend into cleaning and forced myself to retain it’s relative cleanliness, so that’s got to count for something.