It’s been roughly a year since I decided to finally give in to writing. A year always brings some arbitrary reason for symbolic reflection. Apparently, a full rotation around the sun is a good way to measure accomplishments. Writing is something that has always dug at me, nipped and pinched at me, a scratch that I would refuse to fully to itch.
Sometimes things just happen, things just click. That’s what happened a year ago. A severe binge of playing Diablo 3 left me awake one day to what I’d been doing. Not that I didn’t enjoy my gaming time, but I realized how little I was gaining personally from it. Gaming is escapism for me, but I can only escape as far as someone else’s world. Writing blows the hinges off those doors and really lets me explore. Some other factors poured into the equation as well, but I finally reached whatever point I needed in order to take writing seriously. So off I went.
A year later, things are becoming a bit clearer. Initially, writing of course meant that I was bound for million dollar super-stardom and all kinds of extravagant day dreams. It’s fun to day dream and I don’t restrict myself while doing it. But obviously, it’s not reality. Reality has come into play in a very satisfying way. There are certain things in life that I like to refer to as impossible disciplines. Tasks or hobbies that people under take that can never be perfected. The journey is perpetual, hence the draw. I see golf as one of those things. I don’t like golf, but it falls into that category.
So does writing. I can never write the perfect book or the perfect line. I can never have a flawless premiss or an airtight plot line. My prose can forever improve. My forms of presentation can constantly be pressed for wrinkles. I like the idea of constant progress and evolution. I guess it just reminds me of life. You either keep going or you stop. Or, I suppose, you could simply get to the end, but then what? I’d rather just keep going.
I’m finally beginning to understand what writing actually means to me. I’ve learned how much I enjoy the act of writing. Day dreams aside, this is an itch that’s always been there. It feels really nice to scratch it. I hope to someday become a well known author, but that is something that is becoming more and more only a hope and far less of a goal. I don’t have the mindset of a publishers or advertiser or salesman. Those types of behavior don’t interest me. I enjoy writing. Writing allows me to search for things inside of myself and say things that I would otherwise not feel safe saying.
In terms of publishing, there are two reasons for doing it. First is honesty. Putting everything out there is a bit of a self-induced spotlight. It forces me to be honest with myself. Second, it pushing my writing further than if it were only for my eyes. It creates a reason to get better, to strive. Publishing beyond those two things, both in regards to books and flash fiction posted here, is not a priority. If I can make money from this, so be it. Ideally, I’ll make enough money from sales to cover the cost of editing and break even. In a dream world, I make millions and drink the finest scotch for the rest of my life.
But through these months I’ve personally come to find that it really is all about dumping the words onto the page. Obviously, I would love for people to enjoy my work. As it stands now, I think I have about 10-20 actual readers. And believe it or not, that’s enough to keep me pushing forward at times when maybe I’d rather not. Slacking off is remarkably easy. Writing, even when enjoyed, can be hard to get around to. Having people waiting helps to move me along.
My first book should be done by the end of the year. Originally, it was going to be a novella (which is done) that would be followed by a novella that was essentially part two. The first draft of part two is nearly complete, which will then be coupled with part one and create an actual book. I have a second novel that is halfway written that I will finish next year. And these flash fictions will eventually be grouped into a book as well, with my personal comments on stories and what have you.
It’s been an interesting rotation around the sun.