I started the year right, finishing two novellas, a short story, and a flash piece. Now, I'm treading water, writing around 800 words a week and sinking fast into a quagmire of disillusion.
I'm adrift. I don't know where I'm going, even with an outline. I'm not a full-time author. I'm a hobbyist at best, playing at this writing game, hoping to make a little money while I find my niche audience and work at becoming a master storyteller.
This is not where I wanted to be at this point in my writing hobby (I can't call it a career). It's not because there's a pandemic going on, either. I was bad at all the things before the pandemic, and only marginally better as I educate myself: writing, selling, marketing, newsletter-building, audience-luring, winning.
I hope you are faring better at this game of life, friend.