So, having just done some edits on a short story slated for publication in January, I believe, I have realized something:
Between keeping up this blog, starting my podcast, traveling to and covering various comic cons (awesome), joining a D&D group for the first time in a hundred years, and editing a bunch of stuff for $$, I haven’t been writing–I mean, not in the way I should be writing.
You know? Stories?
I have totally let that fall by the wayside, and that bums me out.
That’s what I’m ostensibly been doing here, isn’t it? Writing? Being a writer? Doing authorial crap?
That needs to change.
I need to pick a writing project and just start running with it again. It doesn’t matter what, but I’ve got to do it. It doesn’t matter how good or bad I think it is.
I need to do it.
I’ve been so busy–happily so, please don’t misunderstand me–that I haven’t had time to miss it.
But then those edits come through.
Admittedly, there were precious few edits to be made; it really is a pretty short piece, after all, but I was editing my words, not someone else’s.
I was responsible for them.
Cradle to grave.
I forgot what that felt like (my writing for the blog notwithstanding).
I forgot I liked it.