28 days later…and the confession of an idle-mind.

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Thoughts on a Month

This blog has been going for a month now. Just a month. I have to say, since I’ve had to write it, it feels like at least three time that long. You’ve had to read it….so it must feel even longer than that.

Here’s what my first moon-turn of blogging has helped me realise:

1) It feels like people are listening, even when they’re not. It’s tranquilizing in this respect. Makes a hopeless shut in feel like he has a place.

2) All writers are, inherently, confused people. All trying to figure things out through some sort of typed catharsis. In days past it would be an isolating trait, but these days you can have an on-line community of loners. It’s good. We can mutter at each other and save the general public.

3) Refreshing your stats page does NOT change the stats, and you should probably try to stop doing it.

 

Failings and Confessions

confessionA major confession to the priests of the net, hoping for e-absolution.

I’m very lazy, mentally and physically, I get bored fast and never commit total effort to anything. I’ve got half a dozen novels started and none finished. I tell myself it’s because I’ve got such a dynamic mind I just can’t focus. I lie.

I’ve got a gym membership expiring in my wallet, money saved up I’m afraid to spend and letters to publishers sitting, unsent, in my e-mail drafts. I tell myself it’s sensibly cautious. I lie.

I don’t push. I never push with everything. If you push with everything, if you pour all your soul and life and blood and work into something…and you still fail, what does that say about you? I’m afraid of the answer to that question I suppose. Failing because you didn’t try is so much easier to excuse.

Possibly, right now, the more astute of you are realising this is NOT a flash fiction sunday post. Flash fiction is done for now. A page of words dashed off, surface pretty but without work or context or weight. Flash fiction is too easy.

I’m going to be 26 soon…and I’ve never completed, improved or achieved anything real. I’ve simply compiled an excellent portfolio of excuses. By the time I’m 27 that has to change, right?

Like I said: It feels like people are listening, even when they’re not. It’s tranquilizing in this respect.

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