Burnout Book Novels & Stories

Damien's POV The glass of whiskey burned down my throat, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the rage boiling inside me. I sat alone at the private section of the club with my jacket beside me while loud music echoed around the room. Several women had attempted approaching me since I arrived, but one glare from me was enough to send every single one of them running away. My mind remained occupied with the disaster from earlier. Zachary, the stolen project, Celeste's involvement, and the possibility of betrayal inside my own home.

Exhaustion is taking over, and I am having trouble keeping my eyes open. Right before my eyes close, the last thing I see is Braxius's blue-green eyes filled with love and sorrow. Except, I somehow know everything will be all right with him. That only thought is making my leaving easier, and I stop fighting the darkness. I am floating away towards total oblivion. I am having a few brief flashbacks of my short life of twenty-two years and growing up in New Jersey with Meena, my younger sister of nine months. I accepted my entry-level position at a prestigious marketing firm and graduating from college with honors as a business major with a minor in history.

Zach was back at work, leaving me alone as usual, engrossed in the pages of my book. I used the world of my book as an escape from the reality of being unemployed. It was a time to reflect on what I should be doing after being told to find myself. Perhaps, I am in a phase of healing, though I am uncertain about my next steps. I found solace in a cup of coffee whenever the urge to drink alcohol arose, a transition that has not been easy. Nonetheless, I am making an effort. I am working hard to embrace self-love and move past my past. I tried not to push away the few remaining people in my support system. The pages of the books I was reading were not enough. I am not the type of woman who can

The year Oliver turned one, something changed in me that was hard to name. It was not burnout. I had been near burnout before, in the thick of the Sorel situation, and I knew what that felt like. This was different. Less a depletion and more a kind of clarification. I had been running at maximum capacity for six years. Not without joy, the joy had been consistent and real. But at maximum. Every week full, every commitment honored, every room given everything I had.

They were afraid I might suddenly remember their existence. I issued a notice stating that the external branch would undergo personnel restructuring based on performance data. I gave them a one-month deadline. Seeing that I wasn't getting ready to deal with him immediately, Jacob felt slightly relieved. However, he still felt on edge whenever he recalled how thoroughly Megan had been fired. The weekly data and analysis reports he submitted were written with anxious care, every word dripping with his cautiousness. Cindy was worse. Whenever she ran into me, she would scurry away like a squirrel.

She had been writing about what came after. That was the second book. Not the year — the year was the first book, complete and in the world and doing what it had been written to do. The second book was what came after the year. What it meant to live in the after. How the woman who had found herself in the fire continued to find herself, every day, in the ordinary life that the fire had produced. How the settling was not an arrival but a practice. How the choosing was daily and not dramatic. How the marriage that had been rebuilt was not finished being rebuilt — would perhaps never be finished, which was not a failure but a feature.

"I'll dig another chamber nearby, bigger than this one. We'll plant crops underground. With the sunlight we channel in and the water supply, the heat during the apocalypse will actually help things grow. We just need a month of food stored up until the crops start coming in." We divided up the work and got everything ready just in time. Tomorrow, the heatwave apocalypse would arrive. That night, I curled up on the big bed in the cellar, holding Blazewing close while waiting for the apocalypse to begin. When I woke up the next morning, I could already feel the difference. The cellar was warmer than yesterday, rising from damp and cold to a cozy, comfortable temperature. Blazewing stretched on

"You’ve saved sufficient. Pay him off and close him up." "He desires to meet now. At his cafe." Lewis leaned lower back, crossing his fingers. "Then pass. I’d include you, however you know the way that’d quit. Just manage it." I nodded, hiding the unease gnawing at me. Lewis already had enough to cope with. The last component he wished to become my troubles piling onto his personal life. After downing the remaining lukewarm sip of my espresso, I dumped the relaxation within the sink and grabbed my purse.

CLIO “You mean other than saving a beautiful woman from the current?” He smiled, and I felt my blush all the way down to my toes. He chuckled softly at my reaction and continued, “I found myself suffering from work burnout and decided I needed to get away for a while, recalibrate. You?” “Same. I mean, not from work or anything. Maybe I’m just burned out on life? It’s just been a really hard few months, and I’m looking to work on myself—recalibrate like you said,” I told him.

I have an upcoming exam and I have to prepare for it. I love this book and I have great ideas for it, but with my current burnout I'm afraid that I'll ruin it. I already feel it's not flowing like it was supposed to. It won't be fair to you or the book not to give it my all or just write for the sake of writing. Please understand that I'm not abandoning or giving up on the book, I just need a bit of time to sort out my head before I can go back to writing. You deserve an awesome story and I would be disappointed in myself if I didn't give you that.