Obsession
I -- okay, so hello. Hi.
Um, I feel like I'm waking up from some sort of fever dream. Or like I'm emerging from a cave, my face hit with a blinding light that my corneas aren't used to. I've been deep in the recesses of my mind for a while now, but as of last night, I'm on my way out.
Last night, I finished a novel. A novel I started three weeks ago. Twenty-one days ago. I started writing a novel twenty-one days ago, and today, 51,000 words and 130 (Google Docs) pages later, I'm done.
Let's unpack that.
I do this thing where I become obsessed with writing. I mean, I am a writer, so obviously I'm a little obsessed with it at all times. I've formed a writing habit that -- outside of bouts of mental overload, anxiety, or, once in 2018 and again in 2020, depression -- has me writing something every single day. As we all know, because I've talked about it more than once, I formed this habit after reading a quote from Octavia Butler about habit vs. inspiration. I will always sing habit's praises. Habit keeps you writing, and is therefore the most reliable tool in a writer's belt.
Inspiration, however, makes you mad.
Inspiration makes you forget about everything else -- eating, showering, sleep, responsibilities -- to focus on The Thing. When I have a project like that, I forsake everything else. For me, inspiration is obsession. I go to sleep, wake up, and spend my day thinking about a story, so much so that I'm acting out scenes in the shower and writing dialogue in my sleep (and waking up to type out a quick text note before I forget what I've just conceived). Obsession is how We Are Eternal and Way Down Low happened. Both were written in about a month; tens of thousands of words each, all in under thirty days.
