Hi, I'm Molly, and I am a binge writer.
I go through stints of writing a lot. All of a sudden I just have to write down every single little thing, and my mind is just bursting with "great" ideas and its wonderful and I'm going to be a writer...
And then it stops. All of a sudden wasting my day doing things like watching tv or aimlessly scrolling through various sites on the internet, relying on someone else to think and create for me. And then a month later it starts all over again.
The worst part about this method is the conviction about halfway through my off period that I am doing absolutely nothing with my life, even though I am not even out of high school. And I have this nagging voice in my head saying, why can't you write, why can't you be original, creative, perfect, every second. But even with this knowledge, it still takes me a while before I log off my websites, finish my homework, and actually start up again.
It was the same thing with reading for a while. I'd read about 3 books in a week, then wait three weeks then read more books, staying up to unwise hours of the night. I've gotten better, but more in that I don't read once every month. I still stay up too late finishing a book that I PROMISED myself I would only read a chapter of, pretty frequently.
Now I need to do the same for writing. I need to get in a habit of just writing something, anything, at least once a day if I am not buried by my own over-scheduling. It is hard but I am working on it, so hopefully these things will be a bit less sporadic in the days to come. I've wanted to do nanowrimo for 2 years, but I don't see it happening anytime soon. At least the want is there.
The only thing about being in a constant mood of creativity, is that I am pretty sure my sleep will rapidly decrease. Sometimes, if I just wrote something, and I stop to go to bed, my brain won't shut up easily, and then I can't get to sleep, so I continue writing, and then it's this downward spiral of a lot less sleep than is necessary for me to function properly. I call it "creative insomnia."
It feels really nice when it is happening, kind of what I am feeling right now. Your eyelids are heavy, but you are wide awake, feeling the words finally coming, anticipating the click clack of the keyboard, or the familiar sound of pencil sliding across paper and the line of graphite on the side of your hand, marking you as a writer.
I kind of feel at peace with the world at these times. The world is so delightfully undisturbed at, say, 1 o'clock. I have a distinct memory of leaning my head against the window frame my bed was under when I was younger. And it would be raining and I could feel the crisp cold of the downpour through the window, and the wood smelt like wood ought to. Then I'd stand on my bed and look through the window and see the streetlight turning the raindrops into fire as the water and light crossed paths. Then I'd pull my comforter up around me and I would this perfect temperature.
And I'd think to myself: "This is what it feels like to be alive."
That's what I crave, what I want to feel like everyday. I just wish there was enough time.
