17 March 2013

I do believe I have not written in a while. I am at a place right now where I don't even know why any more. I don't really have the time any more, but I also feel like I have nothing to write or perhaps too many topics on which to concentrate on.

I also tend to go in waves. Huge, ginormous, moody, menopausal, barbaric, and just plain wave waves. Writer's block. Constipated temperament. Work is bugging me, life is a blissful swirl of ups and downs. But either of those carry risks that I've started forgetting how to overcome.

Right now, I have been working on a prompt given to me by a fellow writer, so I'm going to go work on that. I am also working on my novel, which has come further along than any other piece I've started, save for my memoir, which I used to call 'autobiography' on very loose implications. The latter word being something saved for someone of high importance like royalty, political officials, world changers. I am no such thing. But that has fallen by the wayside and I've about three trillion other pieces of work I'd like to finish in addition to figuring out where the next place in my novel the characters are going, even to say which characters will be introduced and how I will introduce conflict and realistic controversy. I'd like to finish something. I've never finished anything. College, written pieces, my marriage. Always bailed or dropped the ball.

But I digress, this is not about retrospect or any such wistful spinning out over things in the past that I cannot change. This is simply about writing for the sake of writing, even if it produces nothing, which can only be a canal for which production WILL eventually take place. Much like fiber supplements help keep you regular.