Arkem: I’m having a “I’d rather be napping” day.
Me: Aw. That was my yesterday. Although to be fair, I’ve only just woken up today and I’m not sure yet that I don’t regret it.
The problem with being ridiculously sleep deprived is not that I can’t write. I write just fine when I’m out of my head. Last night I wrote something that could very well be the start of my next book. It was typed really badly but inside the word salad there was an idea that has actual promise. I think.
And that, that right there is the problem with the sleep deprivation. No judgement. I can’t tell if something is good, bad, or indifferent. I can’t tell if it’s funny or offensive or just doesn’t make sense. No, it’s worse than that. It’s not that I can’t tell. It’s that I hate everything. I’m really incredibly judgemental when I haven’t slept.
After a couple of days like that I think I’m a hack who shouldn’t be allowed near a keyboard. I also start fantasising about what sleep would be like. But I’m pretty sure that’s normal.
So I don’t let myself edit when I haven’t slept. I’m allowed to write first drafts of things because if that turns out gobbledegook I can toss it but I can’t edit because I’d just shred my work. So I make notes.
I haven’t slept properly for the last week so now I have a zillion notes and I don’t trust myself to actually alter the text. I can’t sleep, everything I look at seems terrible, and for some reason my little finger (the one I sprained when I punched the wall) really hurts when I type. So basically I’m doomed.