Posts Tagged ‘depression’

It’s been a tough month.

I think I’ve been dealing with a low-grade depression the past few weeks, possibly brought on by the short days and long stretches of darkness. Getting anything done these days seems like a long, slow slog under water … and as a result, I haven’t gotten much done. I’m overdue now for not only a blog post, but a book review, a 1st Turning Point article and a long-form newspaper piece.

I’ve gathered string on them all, but haven’t wrapped up a single one.

I know writers in generally are moody bitches with overdeveloped interior lives, and I’d be curious to hear from others if they too swim through metaphorical molasses when it comes to tackling work at this time of the year. Or do they just recognize the possibility in advance and take a mental-health break? Or is it a non-issue?

Anyway, it hasn’t been a completely unproductive time. Here’s some of the highlights, lowlights and sidelights of my December so far:

• I tried to play amateur attorney with the Washington governor’s office in an effort to shake loose some documents that shed light on why Gov. Gregoire turned down the subject of one of my stories for a pardon — after her handpicked board supported the petition. I did some legal research, coming up with some reasons I felt the documents weren’t covered by executive privilege or attorney-client privilege. But the governor’s office, in a letter I received Dec. 11, argued otherwise, and cited specific statutes to support its point. The documents I requested were included with the letter, however — completely blacked out. Nice touch. I think that left me feeling a bit defeated. More than a bit, really, since the simple reality is that smarter, more powerful people than me righteously kicked my ass for presuming I was fit to step into the same arena with them. I really wanted something from the governor’s office for my story besides stony silence. And I’m having to accept that I’m just not going to get it.


• I finally finished doing all my interviews for the long-form article, two months later than I had hoped. I had to let go of some prospective sources who just weren’t returning my calls or e-mails despite their initial pledges to cooperate, however, and I had to really ride herd on others who kept making promises and putting me off. Some of the squirmiest people were those who had the most to gain from my story, too, which still leaves me scratching my head. Now I just have to write the damned thing, and try to keep its length in line — which means that better than 90 percent of my herd-riding won’t be reflected in the final version of my story. I accept that … and yet, it makes me feel a bit bogged down.

• I’ve noodled every few days on the 1st Turning Point piece, the book review (on the latest true-crime compilation from Seattle’s Ann Rule) and the long-form newspaper piece, plus a lengthy blog in which I shred another true-crime book. But I can’t honestly say any of those have progressed much beyond the roughest-of-rough-drafts stage. Normally I might procrastinate a bit before I fully plunge in and bang a piece out. Not this December.

• I’ve whipsawed wildly on my fiction-writing efforts. One day, I’d dick around with the rewrite on one manuscript. The next, I’d tool around with a novel in progress. Then I’d work on an outline for another, and then pull a short story out of the cyber-trunk. It’s been something beyond ADD, like a spring-loaded 5-year-old who’s off his Ritalin dosage. All the more so because in between, I’d slump on the couch and watch five “West Wing” episodes in a row.

• Just this Monday, I made visits to see the subjects of two different true-crime stories at the state women’s prison near Gig Harbor and at the McNeil Island Corrections Center. That’s tough any time, given the general dreariness of prisons, but harder this time because both inmates were feeling pretty low. Both were feeling the pain of holidays not being spent with loved ones — in the woman’s case, loved ones she had killed — and, I think, making themselves a little crazy over the possibility of being free within a few months or a few years. (As Jeannette, the female inmate, put it: “I’m getting a little crunchy.”) And there was a new burden: As of Jan. 1, they’ll lose the right to wear their own clothes. Everything, including underwear, will be state-issued. This, I’m told, is a giant morale-crusher in places where morale, obviously, is none too strong to begin with. You may have no sympathy in the abstract for this — “It’s prison, dammit!” — but I assure you that if you get to know some of these prisoners as people, you will rethink those hardline assumptions. I left both facilities carrying a little bit of their funk with me, I think.

There were some good things, too, though. The last of my major interviews for the long-form piece was an absorbing two-hour talk with Gov. Gregoire’s former senior legal counsel. I made some pretty solid progress in getting all the interviews transcribed. (It generally takes me an hour for every 15 to 20 minutes of recorded conversation.) I attended the latest state Clemency and Pardons Board hearings, and emerged with a couple of cases worth at least knowing more about. I even came up with a quick-hit book idea that I can turn around in a few months for a small side-stream of revenue should I need it (i.e., should my ever-precarious newspaper-editing job get yanked out from under me).

The wheels are always turning. It’s just a matter of whether they do it in mud, or on pavement. And, just today, I feel the ground getting a little firmer under my feet. And I think it’ll get a little firmer still once I arise on Christmas morning, eat my usual breakfast by myself, take my usual dinner to work that afternoon, do my usual thing in the newsroom that night, and go home and put this most difficult of holidays behind me for another 364 days. And finishing something for a change, if only a blog post.

I take that as a good sign. Because a week ago, I couldn’t have even gotten started.

So, Merry Christmas to me. And to you, my readers and friends, who make me believe that my dreams of becoming a book author will someday soon come true.

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