It is somewhat amazing that I have not posted anything of substance in a while. There are many good real life reasons for this. Alas, I cannot disclose the nature of my personal circumstances. Let me therefore explain the sad state of things instead.
Writing is my biggest passion, besides drawing and piano and dance (of which I know little of). And like all these things I have hardly practiced these passions at all, besides the reading. My beta-bestie, Allison, lent me “The Fault In Our Stars,” which while at times slightly pretentious and way too existential, is a beautiful story. I’ve loved the writing, the characters and the symbolism of the whole thing. It didn’t make me cry, but it made me think long and hard. Practically every time I read this book it leaves me with thoughts of simply everything. So rather than a feeling book or film, this is a story that leaves me thinking and that is a rarity. Because of this, I might even say Mister Green has written a slice of brilliance, just maybe. Even on the normal side of brilliance, he has given us a different perspective and a broader understanding.
Rather than inducing thoughts of death, for me it brought to mind my own writing and the stories I set out to tell. I don’t even know if Mister Green sets out to accomplish this with every book he writes, create a slice of brilliance, that is. Or if he is just intuitive. But I started thinking of storytelling and my mad rush over the last year to just pump those novels out. That’s what everybody says, right? Quantity over quality is the only way to make buck in this game. Well I don’t believe that is true anymore. At least, it isn’t relevant to me anymore. I don’t want to write a dozen books in five years. I want to write one book in five years that matters in some way. If it doesn’t matter to anyone else, I want it to matter to me the same way Stay mattered to me.
I want to write maybe a bit less but a lot more. I want to read in chunks and regurgitate little. For the last month of personal chaos, I could not understand where my drive disappeared to. Why couldn’t I love it the way I should. Why didn’t any of it matter anymore? I lost my relevance. Or maybe life was just so overwhelming I didn’t have time to live fantasy worlds through my fingertips. Maybe it has been a much needed, albeit brief sabbatical, or maybe it was all leading to this single, important revision.
I’m going to change. I already have changed. I want to find ways to tell the stories that need to be told. And find the courage to set aside those that don’t.
My posts may not be so frequent meantime, but rest assured I am continuously laboring over sequels and side projects and above all things, love.