ambition and burnout

Ambition and burnout.

I’ve got both.

Part of me is incredibly driven right now to think bigger. Finish the edits on the book that’s nearly done. Finish the next book and send it to the editor. And then start the next book.

Not just one “next book.” I want to really dive into a creative series—plan it from the beginning to be a wider world with myriad characters, fun places, and depth of detail. I’ve been playing around with it, fitting plans in between the other work (play).

It’s coming up on a year since I’ve missed a day of writing, and I’m proud that I have such a long streak. Over the days and weeks and months, I’ve spent so much time feeding these artistic desires deep inside my heart.

But I’ll admit I’m tired. And maybe a little burned out.

I don’t know if I’m tired from creative work. In fact, I don’t think I am. I think I might be tired from the pressures related to staying home from COVID and day job worries and home and family and everything. 

Over the years, I’ve learned that I can’t do everything, and I’ve learned to not agree to do too much. There are still times, though, that it happens. Like now.

I thought about taking a day off of writing, though, and that made me irrationally sad. Like, this time, my time for writing, is the time that is just for me. It’s sacred. While I can feel the pressure to “keep up the streak” of days of writing in a row that I check on a calendar, I’m still happier writing than not writing. I’m less stressed and anxious when I act than when I take a break.

I need to take a break from something, though. 

Maybe I simply need a vacation, and with the way work and home blend together during COVID, it’s hard to justify one (and practically speaking, for much of this time we haven’t been able to go anywhere).

Or maybe I just need to not be so hard on myself and to allow in imperfection. Breaking streaks.

Being human.