I’ve been pushing myself really hard on the novel I’m writing, alternated with zooming through watching Everwood, but occasionally, I have a quiet, in-between moment… and I wonder why I feel so down. Before inevitably remembering the election I’m working so hard to block out.
I can see the changes in the book I’m writing this month caused by the outcome of the election. The outline hasn’t changed. Overall plot, characters, even their emotional arcs—all the same. But it’s a different book than it would’ve been. Like it’s stitched in a different fabric.