It’s been a hot minute since I did the last update. Honestly, I haven’t been focusing on writing so much as life. I have a lot of goals I want to reach, and only one of them is writing and finishing a story. The reality is that that particular goal has taken a backseat to what needs to happen. And that is: focusing on health.
We moved in 2017 (the end of), and in 2018, I decided I would “finish” getting healthy (losing weight) and get to my goal. Weight loss is so extremely wrapped up in feels that it is difficult to do anything else. So throughout 2018, and then 2019, I focused on losing weight. The closer I got to my goal, the harder it was to figure out how to balance everything I needed to do with everything I wanted to do with everything I did do.
Am I there yet? No. But, I need to balance this focus out with something else. I lost the drive, the creativity, to make anything. I no longer made jewelry (my environment changed, which made it harder to focus); I no longer wrote; I no longer did anything creative. I focused, instead, on creating my body, I guess. It’s a good enough analogy, at least.
As time has passed, I ‘ve found that I need some creative outlet. The ideas I’d once seduced before are stirring again. The ghosts of the past are whispering that their story hasn’t been told yet and that the story of before is still true. It still needs to be written, but better. More enriched with details. More in-depth characters with a better understanding of the world.
It is in the midst of our garage overhaul that I’ve found the vestigial twitch of a desire to write again. While sorting through papers and old school stuff, I found old notes of a seed of a story. Back then, I was too young, too amateur to build a 3D world. Yet, the ideas are sound and exciting. My gut tells me the ideas of the distant past can help flesh what I’ve put to paper so far.
So, I’m going to try.
That’s what this life is, right? A series of steps in some direction that possibly carries one forward to one’s dreams. My dreams aren’t what they were when I started out writing. I am leaving behind the trappings of what drove me before — getting published, getting attention, getting anything out of this that is external. I am going to write for myself. Not for anyone else. Not for publishing, not for making money — though that would be nice, of course — but for myself.
I need to enjoy this if it is something I am going to do over the long term. I need to get lost in the worlds I create and see what bears fruit.
So. I am going to try.
Maybe, I’ll succeed at what I want to do. Maybe, I won’t, but rise or fall, at least I will have enjoyed doing it.