I have not been sleeping well lately, you guys. Since mid-July, when I decided to leave my full-time job, I have been working on a novel. Before I started working on it, I felt a little lost and unfulfilled by my career and was questioning my self-worth too often, pulling up little to satisfy the cavity of what I had to show for my contributions to the world, thus far. I craved a sense of fulfillment that I could actualize and needed to pursue an activity at full-steam that would make me feel like myself again.

My stock on happiness and self-worth had dwindled below the recommended reserve and I felt disappointed in myself for not nurturing my creative strengths, for so long. Even if this novel doesn’t end up making a single penny and even if it is rejected by publishers, it will have been worth the time for what I have gained in self-discovery. I feel like me again, and it’s taken a long time, but for the first time since college, I feel like a writer again. Writing a book has been a dream of mine since I was a kid and now, it is one that I am determined to make a reality with this new project.

When I started working on this novel in July, I had no idea how long it would take to finish a first draft. To be honest, I had little confidence that I’d even be able to do it and worried that the initial excitement of the process would wear off. My mantra became Jodi Picoult’s wise quote, “You can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page,” so I wrote some bad pages to start and then they morphed into a plottable base for a story and a set of characters whom I have grown to love.

As I got to writing, the confidence in my ability to accomplish the task at hand began to grow. I began reading about other successful writers’ routines and habits and was able to ballpark a timeline for when I could likely have a first draft finished. In September, I set a deadline of October 17th for my first draft. Now that that deadline is just around the corner, I am not as afraid of it as I thought I’d be. I have been diving deeper into the world that I have spent the past three months creating and that world is growing more developed each day. So far, it has been a passion project not without its difficulties – both creatively and psychologically.

I like to write mystery. If you’ve every read a mystery, you’ll know that the genre requires some shady characters. I have been putting off writing the details to the darker side of my story for a while, but last week, I finally plunged down the rabbit hole of researching and writing them and have yet to come out the other side.

I have learned that I have two designated writing spaces in our home. One is the chaise seat of our blue couch, where I am writing this now, and the other is at my desk that I also use as a nightstand. I think the concept of a designated writing space can come in handy when working on building a villain’s story arc, however, I think I used the wrong one when constructing mine.

Writing a villainous story arc at my desk right next to where I sleep was not a wise idea. It is hard to sleep easy where you have created a monster. When I close my eyes at night, the stories I have read for research come to mind and the stories that I have created join them, invading the counting sheep’s pasture with dark clouds and ominous sounds, causing them to flee because they too can sense that something bad is lurking there. I get through the battle of sleep, on edge from the start, wondering what evil awaits me in my REM cycle, and let me tell you, it has been pretty creative, you guys.

I’ve always had a talent for being easily frightened. Pair that with a fear of the dark and terrible vision and voila!; you’ve got yourself a bedroom stalker that is actually just a table with a fan on top of it. While I, without my glasses on, am the most likely thing to go bump in the night, my imagination plays tricks on me with evils that aren’t there, conjured from harmless shadows, shapes, and light.

Coffee probably doesn’t help either. Some days, I can’t seem to write a word without coffee so I have coffee and then I have some more to keep going. Something that used to be a slow, enjoyable part of my morning routine has become a crutch for putting words on the page, but I think I’d like for coffee to go back to being a moderated morning indulgence to simply enjoy as I wake up. Writing anxiety-inducing story arcs on two cups of coffee isn’t a blend that hits the spot. For my writing sessions, I think I’ll switch to herbal tea and see if a sense of calm comes easier when it’s time to sleep.

Either way, I think the sense of accomplishment of finishing a first draft will be worth the sleepless nights and that perhaps I could use some toughening up anyway for the rewrite road ahead. But now, it’s that time in the day to close my laptop and take in the ocean view and a few sips of chamomile and honey to help guide me back from the winding depths of Wonderland.