I've been sitting staring at InDesign for about an hour. Everything I do looks terrible to me. I remember now why I don't write in the winter. I spend hours obsessing over on paragraph, one sentence - sometimes even one word (why, oh why could I not think of the perfect word?! I must be a terrible writer!). The confidence I have in the late spring to summer is gone. I feel disgust for everything I do. And even more disgust for the things I don't end up doing. A lose/lose situation.
I was always fortunate with the paying jobs I had. Printshop work is light in the winter, and usually very easy letterheads or ad set-ups. Much of the work I did in the winter was cutting and collating and generally grunt work in the bindery helping out the pressman. By springtime the work was back and so was my confidence. The worst jobs I ever had were ones that I accepted during the winter time, and come spring, realized just what an asshole the boss was and what crappy conditions I was working in. In the winter I just felt that it was no more that I deserved - but by spring I was outraged. They thought they were getting a grateful little stray kitten - but the kitten turned into a tiger with the coming of longer days and cut off the hand that abused it.
My mild-tempered husband is often baffled by this conundrum. In the winter I become solitary, unactive - unsocial, not wanting to go out with friends or leave the house much. Springtime comes and we are evenly matched - mildly active, getting out some, quiet contemplation sitting around some. Summer comes and I'm rarely sitting still - I'm dragging him off the couch to do some activity or another. I get irritated with him for slowing me down, for not doing more, for boring me when I want to go, go, go. Then autumn comes and I'm back on his pace again. I'm not quite as bad as I used to be, age is slowing me a bit and evening things out more. But my psychologist had to point out to me that it was not wholly Mr. Ipsissimus' fault that he couldn't keep up with my changing temperaments. Yes, he needed to learn to be more flexible - but I needed to learn a bit of patience as well and understand that he is a one-gear person while I am a three-speeder.
Ugh, I've been reading through my novels and I'm just ready to trash them. Sometimes I think they're great, but right now they just seem like unpublishable pulp. I'm ready to retire as desktop publisher as well, and give everyone I ever did design for money for inflicting my work on them. I think it would be a good idea to get out the sun lamp for, oh maybe several hours, see if I can get an attitude change going. 67 days until spring. January and February are the hardest.
Monday, January 14, 2008
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3 comments:
Oh, K! Hang in there; it will be Spring soon enough. I'm hoping to make a trip down there some time soon--might Gunthor like to go for lunch?
I just have to say that I think you're fabulous in every way, and I'm grateful to know you.
Love,
Shadow/J
Gunthor would love to join you for a total carb sort of lunch. Once he is sated - he'll probably let me join you as well :-)
I hear you, K. When I saw the number "67" near the end of your post, I envisioned that was the number on the thermometer. It's not even 67 INSIDE at my house. Outside, four degrees. Like, the number 4. If it gets above ten, I mean, 10, I might go to the ski area, because I've decided the only way to beat winter is to get into its own game. We'll see how long this perspective lasts.
Wishing you warmth and a way to discover good happy things indoors.
MM
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