The Point

Around March of this year, I got bored. I was writing, not a lot but I was working on what I foolishly thought would be a novel. I’d just gotten into the world building phase when something went wrong. Things go wrong in writing all the time, thats why there are drafts. This however was different, I was bored, bored by what I was writing, it didn’t take long to realize I was also bored with what I was reading. One of the nameless faceless many fantasy books floating around. It was confusing, I loved fantasy didn’t I? I thought I did, but as I looked at my bookshelf, I couldn’t find one title, new or old that I wanted to read, or reread. Somewhere along the line, fantasy had gotten boring. In the cobwebs of my mind, all the dragons were dead, magic sputtered its last spell, and the young protagonist with the unpronounceable name had finally died in shame.

I was bored and that was bad. If I was bored, what was the point of trying to build up a novel? My boredom would easily translate to the reader. You don’t sell anything that way. So I took a “break”. I figured something would fill the void. I’d find a new genre. Perhaps even a new way to write. I made the worst mistake a writer can, I stopped writing. I figured something would rush in and spark my creativity and all would be fine. Nope. Not even close, not writing is much easier than writing. Suddenly I was no longer a writer, and because I wasn’t writing I’d created a void in my mind and worse, in my imagination. I started frantically searching for what was missing. I spent a lot of money, games, movies, books, something, anything to satisfy what was missing. Nothing worked, I got a little satisfaction, by having something new. Eventually the novelty wore of and I felt dead again. I was a writer who wasn’t writing and I couldn’t see what was right in front of my damn face. I wasn’t writing so in the most easily definable way I was unhappy. It showed too, I got angrier easier, annoyed faster, work wasn’t bringing me the joy it used to, I was an asshole at home, an asshole at work. I even lost my ability to concentrate. Its amazing that my girlfriend is still around. I would have left, if I was presented with how I must have been these last six months.

The answer of course was right there in front of my face the whole time. For some reason I just couldn’t get to it. If I’d kept up with my old habits things may have been ok. I used to visit a site every single day when I was writing. It is called Forward Motion for Writers. Its a great community of writers who help each other along this bumpy road to publication. I would always be in the chat room, or reading the forums learning always learning. When I stopped writing I stopped going there as well. Nothing seemed to hold any real joy anymore. I thought I was depressed, hell maybe I was. If I had continued going to that site I may have been able to save myself some of the anguish of the last six months. I didn’t go to that site however for one very important reason. Someone would eventually ask me what I was writing and I would have to reply...nothing. I didn’t want that. Now that I think about it I may have had the answer all along and just refused to face it. Writing is hard after all. You’d be amazed what a person will do to avoid writing when it doesn’t flow. As I have mentioned before, I’ve done the dishes. THE DISHES!!!

So we’ve established something was missing, and you the reader know exactly what it is. At the time of course I had no idea. I was just stumbling along, trying to find something to take away this terrible feeling of dissatisfaction with, well with everything. This is sort of what it felt like, it’s rather hard to explain, but I will try. I was excited about something, not all the time, but I could feel something was missing and the need to find it, and the fact I might find it anywhere brought on this incredible feeling of expectation. To make this worse, nothing that I found seemed to fill that void, so I was almost always unsatisfied. I’m not saying that for the last six months I have been unhappy, far from it, but to know day after day that something is missing, thats just...frustrating. As I’ve mentioned earlier in the blog, a friend of mine, I named him Ralph loyal reader if you recall. He decided to start himself a blog. I mentioned that I had once had my own blog, but I stopped writing in it. He wondered why, and my answer...“Because it was a blog about my writing and I can’t write anymore” The feeling that came over me at that moment is near indescribable, happiness doesn’t even touch it, euphoria might be close. Writing was what was missing! To make everything make sense all I needed to do was write again!

So I got a new blog, a better, faster, smarter blog. I was actually quite worried about what would happen. I’ve had numerous false starts in my writing, I always start with good intentions, and then sort of fizzle out. Need an example? My blog before this, you wanna take a guess how many posts I made? Maybe ten? Nope. Five? No way...if you guessed one, you’d have it. The whole purpose of my last blog was to chronicle my attempt at writing a novel, and as you read earlier, that ended rather quickly, after all fantasy is dead in my world, it no longer meant anything to me. So this blog is much more general, sure I am talking a lot about writing, but thats because I just can’t explain how wonderful it feels to finally, FINALLY be writing again. Granted, I am no closer to writing a novel, or even a short story, but I have some ideas kicking around, and the characters are already coming to life. This time, I am going to stick with it. My goal for this year is to send in a short story, to a magazine. I don’t care if I get published. It’s the journey I care about. I want to go from idea to final draft. I expect to be rejected, that is a reality for every writer. I’m alright with rejection I think. I just want to write, not just write but create, it excites me more than anything I have ever felt, I can make a person, a world, I can make anything as long as I can imagine it, and that my friends is the point.