I was over at my LJ, deleting the masses of spam and screened messages that had filtered through and decided to scan any posts with the tag 'fic' to see if I could ferret out more of those damn 'suspicious/spam/screened' messages. I could, and did, and while doing so, came across a story I'd written in 2009 and could not even BEGIN to remember what it was about, why I'd written it, much less that actually I'd won in an angst category for it. That was only four years ago! And now that I think about it, the whole monk story of Tsobias and Kallym and my other khorites was written in 2010, so it hasn't really been all that long since I've been writing.
It just feels like forever since I was swept away by a story I was driven to write. I'm packing my newly-acquired copy of Unfinished Tales and my composition notebook to go with me on this let's-go-to-headquarters workweek I have in San Francisco, leaving tomorrow evening. I'm really planning to take some time in the evenings (and maybe mornings) to write and just do it every day to get back into the habit. And hopefully to get caught up in this story that seems not to want me to abandon it. I also hope I'm not putting way too many expectations on it or myself. I'm not doing my huge re-read and edit of the Wraeththu novel until July when I'm at the Oregon coast for a week with Evan's family. Plenty of concentrated downtime then to sit and do that all in a nice big chunk.
I was just a bit taken aback that I had to re-read "A Place Like Tomorrow" to remember what it was about, what on earth I was working through at the time to have come up with it
my stories about Frealas and Morwen Steelsheen from my early Tolkien days seem like they were written by someone else.
Perhaps it is time to put the knitting needles down for a little while and get back to my purple ink pens. ✍
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