Just over a year ago I wrote a big post about how I wanted to focus more on writing and how I felt sidetracked by the work I’ve put into music production (despite how much I love it).
A year ago.
Just a few minutes ago I started writing the exact same post before I realized I had already written that post. A year ago!
Do you know what I haven’t done in that last year? Finished and published a story. Joined a writer’s group. Shown my work to a friend for critique. Accomplished anything meaningful as a writer.
I enrolled in an SF&F writing course, but I was too busy to actually participate. At least, that’s how I remember it now. I was for sure super busy. But was I so busy that I couldn’t have found an extra couple of hours here and there? How much time did I spend clicking links aimlessly in the Facebook/Twitter/MetaFilter Labyrinth of Lost Time?
The only thing I hate more than writing about writing is writing about not writing. Although if we’re gonna be real about this, I hate actually not writing more than writing about not writing.
And so here we are.
I’ve been taking a lot of photos lately. It’s a beautiful contrast to the problems of writing a new album or a novella. No outlines, no b-story, no character development. Just the briefest moment in time, preserved crystal clear forever.