NaBloPoMo already blows.

I was about to get in bed, thinking it was past midnight and I had already failed NaBloPoMo, and then I remembered that we “fell back” an hour.

I wrote about 70 words today for NaNoWriMo. I really hope this isn’t the beginning of a rut. My creativity (as well as my energy, motivation, and optimism) runs out in about October every year, and I really don’t feel like doing anything until at least after Christmas. I think a lot of it has to do with the change in the weather and the fact that my mood tends to be lower every winter. I used to be able to write when I was depressed; in high school I wrote at least a poem a day all through the fall and winter.

I’m long out of practice, which is probably the main reason I’m forcing myself to write. I don’t feel the words flowing through my fingertips as I used to, or have the need to draw or even webdesign in order to feel somewhat creatively satiated. I’ve starved myself of the arts over the past seven or so years, and now creating anything is a chore that I have no motivation to do. I can no longer pick up an ebony pencil or piece of charcoal and draw still lifes — something that makes my mood sink even lower.

Hopefully giving myself a set goal will break down this wall inside of me that is blocking the things I love best and the things that I’ve always felt represent the best side of me.