Pardon me for me for being overly-dramatic, but sometimes it is literally like someone is standing in front of me, hands against my chest, pushing hard in the opposite direction.
Literally, figuratively – whatever.
Is my comfortable life in check? Certainly. The flat has recently been painted, a lovely new relationship started, I have enough money and work to see me through to next year.
So, what’s with this self-defeating mood? Every now and then it pops up, looks at what I’m writing and says, there is no hope and certainly no point. One of those moods where if, in a year-or-so’s time, London is invaded and reduced to rubble, I’ll think, what the hell was I worrying about?
Psychological tricks and motivational games come and go, but the answer is what it has always been: keep turning up and keep putting one foot in front of the other – that, and the support of fellow writers and friends. Oh, and meditation and exercise.
In the end, I know it will pass. If I come up with anything new, I’ll let you know.