Still Plugging Away

[teddy_radiator]

I really don't have any reason to feel this out of sorts. I'm not in any physical distress, we've got a smidgeon of money in the bank, I'm not having any personal conflicts with anyone, and I've just watched a morning of Morcambe and Wise, which should be enough to jolly anyone out of their doldrums. I can only surmise that it's hormonal, and I'll just have to deal with it.

I'm also frustrated with myself in that I've not written anything of note in over a month. Ever since I started sending out query letters and receiving rejection letters I've had no real desire to write. This causes a strange niggling in my frontal lobe which is part frustration, part mental constipation and part guilt. I feel like I should be polishing up Book Two, but I'm fighting the Why Bother fairy.

Don't get me wrong - I haven't given up or thrown in the towel. Far from it. I'm far from that. I'm just suffering from this strange malaise that I can't quite put words into.

All this reminded me of a comic strip in the 80's called Pluggers. Jeff MacNelly, the artist who created the comic, said that "Pluggers are the eighty percent of humanity who do one hundred percent of the work. They lack pretensions and appreciate the small things. The honour at least some traditions, but they are equally adept at changing channels, changing careers and changing diapers. They've met deadlines, tasted failure, tested the speed limit and probably have a good supply of duct tape. They are, in other words, us...or at least the great majority of us who care about getting the job done and keeping home and hearth together. And who generally succeed - somehow. By wit and by grit. Somehow we hang on and hang in there, never losing heart - even if it's been triple-bypassed."

The comic was so popular that people started sending the artist their definition of a Plugger, which he promptly would draw up for his daily comic. My dad loved the comic so much that he nicknamed his best friend Carl Vermillion Plugger - and it so stuck that it's what many of his friends still call him today. MacNelly actually compiled most of his one-panel comics into a really nice little book called Calm In The Face of Disaster, which I gave to Dad on his last Christmas. Mom kindly gave it back to me, and I have kept it ever since. I find it both funny and encouraging. It really does give you the impetus to just keep plugging away, because so many of his Plugger characters are so like me and the people I know and love.

While I was looking through it, I came across not one but two that referenced writers, and thought I'd share them with you. They certainly made me smile about something I haven't really smiled about since I started sending out query letters.

Comments

[mimimanderly.livejournal.com]

If there is no concrete reason for your despondency, then, yes, it probably is hormonal. When I was peri-menopausal, my emotions would sometimes be in a black pit of despair for no reason at all -- and I had a devil of a time getting out again. However. Since I have emerged on the other side of menopause, I don't seem to get depressed anymore. The thought that would help me immensely when I was in that pit, though, was the realization that everything is a cycle. I had been in that pit before, and eventually I reached the bottom and began my ascent to higher, happier realms. It would almost certainly happen that way again, ad infinitum. Reaching the bottom would actually make me feel incrementally happier because I knew that it meant that my mood would be lightening from that point on.

[teddyradiator.livejournal.com]

I am looking at it this way. I know that I'm a little sad because our friends B & K are going to be moving far away from us in a couple of weeks, and they are my only real face-to-face friends, but tempering my sadness is knowing they are going to be taking advantage of a great opportunity and this move is a really great thing for them all the way around, so while I'm going to miss them, I am truly thrilled for them to have this opportunity. Other than that, it just feels like the old hormonal blues. It is a dark pit indeed, but I know it's not my permanent home.