Sunday, January 29, 2012

On Whining

It appears that I will fail my given task of finishing A Dance With Dragons this month. Hey, get off my back, it's a big friggin book. I'm workin on it, ok?

I've hit a real lull in the writing experience, work is sapping energy from me and my social schedule is ticking along right now, which really kills the whole writing thing too. It's good, but a little depressing. I wish there was more time. Or I could make a living by writing every day. Fortunately my new job isn't too bad. And affords me the money I need to live.

I'm at a point in my life where I'm a bit ashamed to say that I have nothing put away for the future. A future, which even as it starts to take real shape for the first time in a while, leaves me ever more uncertain of its path. Will writing always be there for me? I doubt it. It is something I am going to have to shape and form and that takes dedication and practice. I am worried I'm not dedicated or talented enough to pull that off.

Even so, I have to try. I like to be able to speak with authority on a subject. I feel like I have the beginnings of that with writing. Though authority is a spiny word.

Really. What do I want? I want my writing to be curricular, not extra. But that would take a serious amount of fortitude on my part. I like writing because it is a way for me to express what I see, but I fear that in order to keep writing, I will have to put off seeing those very things I want to embody with my words. I feel like a school child from a bygone era, going uphill both ways in a snowstorm with no shoes. But at least I still have feet.

I should get a diary for this crap, no one cares about doubts and fears. And before you try to comfort me, please let me tell you that I most likely wouldn't care about yours. Results are what the world runs on, everything else is just an excuse. Don't get me wrong. I think externalizing this stuff is good. But really, it's an exercise in futility if it doesn't produce real results, right? Alright, I've got a short story to write. I'm going to try to do that now that I've warmed up the old mitt tentacles and gray matter. Pistons are firing now, I feel them.

Good morrow.

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