i don't know what's bugging me these days. i haven't written anything. no new poem, no story, no anecdote, nothing, for ages it seems. m i less creative than before? no. am i short on time as compared to my previous job? no. infact, now that i am settled here, i should be getting more time to pursue my creative journeys. am i pressurising myself, to perform beyond my expectations or limitations? perhaps yes. limitations, i don't believe in. especially of mind. but there is a bounding limit, that separates me from others. it is not the question of more creative or less, it is of the difference i bring to the paper. or the monitor.
the trouble is, whenever i sit down to write something for my pleasure (as opposed to the job of a professional advertisement writer i have), i feel i am wasting my time. that in the same hour or so i'll take to compose a story, i should get a few chapters ahead on my studies or should give that client brief one more try. who knows, an award winning idea might be on the way.
i decide not to write. to keep the thought away. for someday, sometime else.
is it helping me?
i don't think so. it hurts. and now, some days later, i fell blanked out. as if, the stream has dried up somehow.
i've to find time out for myself, within these 24 hours. i've cut down on my sleep. from 8 to less than 6 hours now. i travel 4 hours, and in 4 different modes of transport, to and from office. half of that, i try to utilise in studying. but frankly speaking, the masters in english literature are not very conducive to be followed in crowded buses and metro and rickshaws.
rest of the major problems are still minor and if all of this comes across as a rant, then, i think i am ranting a bit.
is there a solution to this?
could you suggest me a way out?