Since, in the wake of this post, a critical number of people have called or emailed or used some form of communication to make sure that I am not actually in the Pit of Despair, I thought I ought to provide some reassurance. So. I'm much better than I was, and my intent wasn't to worry anyone. Thank you for checking on me - feeling loved is one of the reasons I feel better.
Early last week just happened to be a Confluence of Unfortunate Events - I got hit with moving stress, having to deal with someone and something that I wish I didn't, not having luck finding good homes for my two cats that need them (Seriously - if you or someone you know would like a very sweet cat, please get in touch.), and then on top of all of that, I was failing at writing.
But my parents are helping me with the move, both from an organization standpoint, and a financial one. (I don't actually get the moving stipend that goes with the fellowship until after I move. I'm not complaining - at least I get one.) And I'm not failing at writing anymore. I have put new words on the page for three days in a row now. I know what happens next in Seen, and I've got a good handle on the overarching conflicts for the book. Due to the assistance of some wonderful friends, I've figured out how I want to revise Linger in a way that I believe addresses what needs to be addressed, and still feels true to the character, and the story I want to tell.
The other things will take care of themselves, and I am reminded that I am not alone. Thank you.