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Thanks to work and revising, I’ve been on the missing side as of late. I’m currently in the middle of revising my first draft, which means rewriting huge chunks that just don’t work. It’s exhausting work, but hopefully, the end result will be worth the effort. If I don’t burn myself out before I get started, of course. Balance, that’s what I’m striving for. However, it’s something that has never been my forte.

My friends can attest, and I’ve gone through enough therapy to recognize, my mood can hinge on a thread. Usually, my writing does too. Good days are amazing. Bad days are horrible. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember, the quintessential girl who “when she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid.”

So pretty much, with writing, I usually am working like a fiend, or I am avoiding it altogether and doing nothing. I don’t give myself one hour in the evening everyday to write. I don’t have a set schedule like that. I have no boundaries with my writing. I’ve tried, once or twice, but then I don’t write when I should and write when I absolutely should be doing something else, like real work or sleeping. The result is exhaustion, or worse, a crash that brings me down to where I don’t write for weeks at a time.

So I’m trying boundaries again. I’m trying not to go to extremes. But at the same time, it’s something I love about myself too. It’s hard to give up something that seems like part of your identity because it’s not healthy for you. I like burning too bright. I just don’t like the dark that follows.

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends –
It gives a lovely light.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay