(Warning – this is so stream-of-consciousness-y and journal-esque it makes me shudder, but its healing. Read if you dare)
So here I am. Just a little over three months since my last post. Three months. 3 MONTHS. It sort of echoes, cuts through and around you. I feel submerged in that thought.
I could make up excuses, right? I did take a new job, one doing what I want to do, what I went to school to do. And that’s exciting. I’ve been doing customer service and retail for fourteen years of my life, and though I’m still working in the service industry and still interfacing with customers, it’s with technology, with computers. It’s a reasonable reason (are we ever reasonable when it comes to reasoning?) not to be on here working on my projects, right? Getting used to a new change takes time and energy. I mean, that’s only human. But the truth of it is, it doesn’t matter how many excuses I try to make.
I haven’t been writing.
But my wife has. And book number three is waiting for my edits. Then off to the next person, and the next. And I still have interior art and maps and layout and formatting and cover art… I don’t feel buried by it, not by any stretch. But she’s also trying to tell me I need to focus on my projects. My writing.
Oh, right, only I haven’t been.
So tonight I sat back down to continue with my pass on her edits. Then I can send it off to two more people for their turn. And while that is happening, I’m going to:
verb (used with object), wrote or (Archaic) writ; written or (Archaic) writ; writing.
6. to produce as author or composer:
“to write a sonnet; to write a symphony.”
1. (now chiefly in combination) a person who creates, builds, or repairs something specified:
“a playwright, a shipwright”
1. a formal or ceremonial act or procedure prescribed or customary in religious or other solemn use:
“rites of baptism; sacrificial rites.”
4. fitting or appropriate; suitable:
“the right solution; the right answer.”