This is getting to be a drag, man. This is the third day hand-running that I’ve had a touch of writer’s block. Starting to get on my nerves.
I think this is the first time since I started this little to-do that I’ve been actively blocked. Of course, that’s nothing compared to being blocked for going on a decade, but that’s neither here nor there. It is nevertheless irritating as hell, especially as this isn’t making any money.
But I’ll tough it out until whatever’s clogging the line is pushed out. I don’t think taking a break is a good idea. I am famously lazy and indolent, just constantly on the lookout for opportunities to do as little as possible. I really don’t need to give myself a reason to quit, even six months into it.
Which, in other news, this is the six month of me writing some sort of gibberish each and day, knocking out at least 500 words (more or less) a day. I am pretty proud of that. Back when this was actually my job/career, I had to write all the time to keep the lights on and wrote on the side for fun. By the time I quit doing this as a job, writing at all was, in short, no longer fun at all. I hung around, trying to do odds and ends for one of the worst years of my life. That was a little under 15 years ago.
When I moved to New Orleans a little over a decade ago, I tired to get back into writing and, in fact, kicked around some unpublished whatnots, including a whack at what I’d guess you’d call “urban fantasy”. However, the longer I stay in New Orleans the harder life got for me, culminating in a break up with my then-girlfriend and my father’s death. By that time anyway, I’d quit writing all together. Hell, I’d more or less quit reading. Apart from playing the odd video game – which I’d restarted while in New Orleans – and working jobs that didn’t care about me, you wouldn’t have known I was still alive.
But here I am. Writing again, reading again, still playing video games, and, hell, even enjoying listening to music apart from background noise again. I don’t know if I’d call myself “happy” exactly or even “content”, but I am having a good time. For me and for the way I look at the world, having a good time (as the individual themselves define it) is a paramount. People ask “What is our purpose in life” and I say there is no purpose, so you might as well have a good time. For my grandmother, for example, her “good time” was having a family and children. She got that and died in content.
Apparently, my idea of a “good time” is sitting around, avoiding the rest of the world, studying on American music, feeding the Elephant’s Child, writing and occasionally getting stoned. Which, I guess, isn’t a bad way to kill time, even though it would be nice to figure out how to make money at this.
Granted, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to pay for this or, for that matter, when I go off on politics like I do. And I would love to be able to knock out some sort of fiction. I’ve got a couple of ideas and maybe now it’s just a matter of doing it until it works. Anyhow, this is past 500 words and I think I’ll get back into Pathfinder: Kingmaker.