I am existing in that state that Elizabeth Ann has always referred to as “timelock.” This is a bad thing. It means that I have too much to do and too little time, and as a result, I’m feeling paralyzed to do any of it efficiently. I feel this everywhere: life, work, my inner world.
My “graphic novel” has been coming along wonderfully, or at least was until a couple of days ago, when the timelock kicked in. I have chucked stick figure drawings in favor of just writing a very clear script with descriptions, which I think ultimately will be more useful for anyone who might be trying to understand it. I am kind of in love with it, which is a great feeling, and something that has not been easy for me to come by in my own work.
Oh, timelock, please leave me. You are not welcome here.