For the past five days I have written 8, 850 words in sixteen articles, gulped down not more than two steaming mugs of bitter coffee per grueling day, slept not more than five hours straight each night, ignored one night-out with girlfriends and two movie plus dinner dates, had one episode of blinding migraine attack, and a continuing dry cough affliction. There is more to putting words on paper than I had ever supposed, and for someone who claims to love writing unconditionally, I am apalled at the way my body reactions and daily schedules have spun out of control. Writing for leisure is one thing, writing and researching as an assignment on tight deadlines is another. The assignments always come in droves, at least three, and numbering until well into twenty per a two to three-day period.
Now, the only thing I think of after waking up each morning is neither my breakfast nor my day wardrobe, but the articles I need to write. More so, how to write them so as to maintain originality and freshness inspite of the burgeoning numbers. Indeed, putting words into paper is much a science as it is an art. There has to be a nifty strategy at hand, so nifty as to keep creative juices from running out. Ever a creature of diversion, it is challenging enough for me to ignore other sites that excite me, and to concentrate on the ones that deal with my assignment. Ringing telephones and books getting impatient to be read holler their way to my subliminal core. But there is no other way than to ignore them, and ignore them I must, even if I get runny nosebleed in the process.
I love what I now do, of that I am certain. In fact, I would never love the idea of work, except when I’m whipping up dishes, playing with watercolor, or writing. But there is no denying I am tired.
I think I know now what divine exhaustion means. 🙂