The Future is Now
I am thinking of writing again. Well, actually, I have been writing again, but I am referring to fiction. Writing stories was my first love. And I have long neglected the practice. Just as I have long neglected this blog. But, I am trying to regroup, and to just figure out what the heck I want from my life. And, yes, that includes creatively.
I still consider myself to be creative. I still have all the old journals of story ideas, all of the starts to stories and completed stories, and even a copy of that one novel I completed that I never could force myself to revise. I still think from time to time that I should revise it, even as I wonder has it been too long? I mean, I am a completely different person now than I was when I wrote it. It was ten years ago. Holy crap-it was ten years ago? I think of the second novel that I started. It had been going along pretty well when real life hit me. The whole being done with college, looking for a full time job thing. The whole moving out on my own thing. The whole relationships suck thing. That kind of real life that derailed my creativity and kind of sent me into a tailspin of depression, where I sort of wanted to just curl up in a ball and not move, and it was all I could do to drag myself out of bed and pretend I was feeling normal.
Needless to say, during that dark period I got out of the habit of creating. Now, my life has been on an even keel for awhile, and I wonder: what next? I loved writing back then, but what about now? Do I still like writing, or do I simply like the idea of writing? Can I really go back and pick up where I left off? Is it too late to try?
I still consider myself to be creative. I still have all the old journals of story ideas, all of the starts to stories and completed stories, and even a copy of that one novel I completed that I never could force myself to revise. I still think from time to time that I should revise it, even as I wonder has it been too long? I mean, I am a completely different person now than I was when I wrote it. It was ten years ago. Holy crap-it was ten years ago? I think of the second novel that I started. It had been going along pretty well when real life hit me. The whole being done with college, looking for a full time job thing. The whole moving out on my own thing. The whole relationships suck thing. That kind of real life that derailed my creativity and kind of sent me into a tailspin of depression, where I sort of wanted to just curl up in a ball and not move, and it was all I could do to drag myself out of bed and pretend I was feeling normal.
Needless to say, during that dark period I got out of the habit of creating. Now, my life has been on an even keel for awhile, and I wonder: what next? I loved writing back then, but what about now? Do I still like writing, or do I simply like the idea of writing? Can I really go back and pick up where I left off? Is it too late to try?