My bed is calling
I'm having such a hard time getting started with writing. Yesterday, I spent hours going through fieldnotes, organizing and outlining the structure of my chapters. I even wrote two pages, a beginning. I should feel triumphant, I guess. But it was so hard, and I ended up so depressed. I haven't felt so bad in weeks. It just felt like wading back into a world of muck that I was so glad to leave behind. Today, when I should be building on this and making progess, I am yawning, feeling achey, looking longingly at my bed. There are so many things I would like to do, but how can I enjoy anything when I'm supposed to be writing? I must come up with a schedule that works for me, one that's productive but also humane.