Monday, January 7, 2013


Well, I'm fresh out.

Burned out, actually.

Or, I was.

I faltered at the end of last year, tripped over my writing feet and, for once, I didn't feel like getting back up. The last few beat-downs - rejections and reviews - had been too rough. I thought that, after countless nights and weekends, stolen moments over the course of hundreds of days, I might be done with writing.

That feeling didn't last long.

I started 2013 with a bang. Well, actually I started with an aggressive illness, but after that came the bang. Not writing is no longer an option for me. In a way I wish it was. I wish that I could walk away, frolic and go out, try on hobbies and laze about. But that's not going to happen. A friend asked if I was going to keep going, despite setbacks and disappointments, because I like it so much. That was the wrong question to ask.

You don't go all out, all the time, because you like something. You don't sacrifice fun, freedom, friends and years because you like something. You do it because you need it, because nothing else makes you feel quite like this. Even when your passion kicks you through the floor to a place lower than low, you climb back up and begin again. That's what love is.

That's also probably the definition of a deplorable addiction, but I'm in too deep to judge.

Photo By MatthiasKabel


  1. I know this feeling well! Every once in a while I sit back and think "Do I want to struggle through this for the rest of my life?"

    The answer always ends up being yes.

    It's even yes now as I stare at another stupid outline that just won't write itself.

    But it'll be worth it at the end...I hope.

    1. Maybe we have to write them *because* they won't write themselves. Chicken/egg/chicken/egg.

      It will be, whether the "it" is publication of completion of something more difficult than we imagined ourselves capable of. It will be.