It’s been a little over two weeks since I decided to stop writing. And… it’s worked. I’ll admit, I haven’t really stopped writing; I’ve just stopped forcing myself to write. If I was inspired for something, I wrote it down. Otherwise, I didn’t do anything related to writing.
A part of me feels slightly guilty about not writing every day, but, overall, I feel a lot better. Two of my stories still have frustrating elements to them (mostly, plot holes), so they’re pushed onto the back-burner, to be dealt with later. For now, I’m working on a story that really is being made up in my head as I’m writing it—but I’m rather inspired to write it, so that’s good. I think.
Meanwhile, I’ve decided to branch away from my normal fantasy in my reading list, and so currently, my mom and I are reading the complete Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I’ll admit, the biggest (only) reason I’m reading that is because I’m a big fan of BBC’s TV show, Sherlock. Still, three chapters into the first book, A Study in Scarlett, I’m definitely intrigued and going to read more.