I am a little bi-polar, though that is not unusual, almost everyone is to a degree. We all have highs and lows, and our moods swing between them. the truly bipolar are just those for whom the swing between extremes is more pronounced and the extremes all the greater. I, while not at the extreme end of the spectrum, am a little more bi-polar than your average man in the street, whomever that is, and whichever street he happens to stand in.

Outside influences beyond my control affect me more than they should, while things under my control are no less triggers. I am however very self-aware. I know when I am getting down, and I generally can spot when I am being a tad on the manic side. I can take steps to level myself out in most cases. I am undoubtedly lucky in this regard…

I have however been down for the last week or so, noticeably so not only to myself, and while I know the cause, it’s a bit of a strange one. Indeed the cause is closely associated to my own preferred method of self-medication. Which if you are a regular ready you might be aware is writing, as I explained in this post a couple of months or so ago. I am not going to go over all that again here. Suffice to say for me writing is more than a mere hobby, it is part of my life in an intrinsic way.

The problem, or what has lead to an extended period of the ‘downs’ for want of a better word, is that when you write there comes a point when a thing is written… And as you might also be aware I released a small novelette about ten days ago. The process of turning what you have written into a book and everything else involved with getting it out there, where ever there happens to be, is almost by necessity a manic period. I get hyped up, I am rushing about mentally, doing all the little jobs here and there I need to sort out, blurbs , covers, typesetting, last-minute edits, angst, worry, sending the final copy off, fixing the final copy when it comes back with a couple of errors, sending it off again. then telling people it is out there in the first place. Manic Manic Manic…

Then suddenly, a day or two after its finally published the backwash hits you. All that energy is expended, and you’re suddenly drained, spent… And that’s when I swing to the other end of my spectrum… That’s when I slip into the ‘downs’ and they always end up being the deep downs… It’s also when you start waiting… Because readers will read in their own time. Readers are the thing that you have no control over and bare in mind up to this point you had absolute control of everything to do with your book. Be it a short novella like ‘A Scar of Avarice’ or a full-blown novel like Passing Place. Once you put it out there all you can do is wait.

Wait and hope, that somewhere someone is reading the damn thing and sort of, kind of, maybe, likes it.

Wait and hope that maybe someone will even take a moment to tell you they liked it.

Wait, and hope, and try not to feel like you need external justification to reassure you bruised psyche that you’ll be fine. That it doesn’t matter if anyone likes it or not, that you have no reason to worry, because the only person who needs to like it at the end of the day is yourself, and you write first and foremost for yourself. While knowing at your core that it does matter, if only to you. While trying to climb back to that happy middle ground between mania and depression…

So, here I am, in the deep downs, several days after publication, waiting…

Except I’m not, not now, I’ve got past that down and moved on to sod it. Which I why I am actually writing this short post at lunchtime. To remind myself that it is the writing that matters, the sun is shining, and life is remarkably good. Time to stop the waiting in the deep downs and get on with the next thing. Let the waiting take care of itself…