Happy Easter week. I have been listening to a baby scream all night long, and all day yesterday, and in fact he's screaming as I write this. So my mind has disintegrated and I can't function. He does not like to be put in his crib and asked to sleep. He says "Neyt." He says "I don't think so, lady." Loudly. His sleep has gone from sleeping through the night to waking up and screaming 2-3 hours at night, and refusing all naps by screaming for upwards of an hour.
It's pretty bad.
It's so bad that it made me wonder if I can ever have a moment to myself again. I'm close to finishing revisions on my ms. But the screaming, oh the screaming.
It's enough to give me fantasies of throwing in the towel. Completely--as in, stop writing. Because you see, the screaming exhausts me mentally and physically (also the no sleep) and what happens is when I'm shredded mentally, I start thinking bad things like, I'm no good. The writing sucks. The novel is a joke.
Have you ever gotten to this place? I've always climbed out of that dank, smelly hole before and back into the sunlight of enjoying the process of writing fiction. I like to think I'll always be able to climb out of it, but the seductive serenade of "you're-not-good-enough" is gaining volume. What do you do to get the demons to stop whispering those bad things in your ear?