#amwriting, still

awesome image via unsplash

I’ve been trying for two weeks to revive an old character. It’s miserable business, I tell you, miserable. At this point, I don’t know why I’m even trying anymore other than I put her down over 5 years ago and when I finished the last project I finished, I looked around and thought to myself, I wonder what she’s been up to?!

Most all of my old stories are completely out of print. There’s a good reason for this. Well, there’s a reason for this.

I stopped writing. No. I stopped sharing. I never stopped writing, for myself, never. I never will. But I did stop sharing, publishing, that is. And there’s a good reason for this as well. Well, there’s a reason. One day, I’ll be able to verbalize it, the reason. For now, back to the imaginary undead.

 

gain and suffering

brilliant photo by Tim Arterbury, via Unsplash

My morning writing finds me sitting at my desk, surrounded by wadded up papers and half empty legal pads, in my flamingo muumuu, no socks, and uncombed hair. Middle of the day. Early Afternoon. Whipped Greek yogurt for breakfast. Green tea and woven wheat crackers for lunch. No war paint. No ornamental embellishments. It’s just me and my tools, and a messy head full of crazy dreams. Oh how we suffer for our art.