Thought-Drive

Two days late. A new record, I think. I don't have excuses, only reasons, and I'm trying to get into the habit of not even using those to sanction my actions. Monday morning I woke up a bit refreshed. Sifting through my own book 2 in preparation for book 3 went well, but I decided to wait, because I had finally made up my mind to go and try to audit that creative writing class offered on campus. I went to the class, spaced off a lot, stared at the clock a bunch, and remembered why I hated school. I came away a little contemplative, too, in regards to what was said, and what I took away from the introductory lecture. So much that I was stunned a bit into not writing yesterday. And that's not to say that I'm done mulling things over, but I committed myself to write in this space once a week, and that, more than anything, is why I'm sitting here, doing this right now. Frankenstein. For some people, this conjures up a variety of modern interpretations of what was, o

I slacked off yesterday and did not blog, nor did I have a good reason. In fact, I went to work without even needing to; I got the dates mixed around. Fortunately, I got to see some people and even do some work that needed doing. That wasn't the only thing that worked out strangely in my favor, either. A writer friend of mine, whom the Fates have smiled on recently, was sharing with me his progress on one of his latest projects and I, being me, asked a question. In reply, he joked that asking the unexpected question wasn't like me at all. I was shocked out of a day dream in wonder over what he had said, and what it had meant. After further investigation, it seems everyone else that knows me is in agreement. Up until that point, I had assumed that the questions I asked were simply ones people were too lazy or disengaged to voice. It turns out that at least in some cases that I don't share the thoughts of many others. I wasn't really sure how to feel about that, however

It occurs to me that if anyone ever thinks they don't have anything to be doing, they're forgetting something. Yesterday started the second week of my vacation, and after some meditating (read: sitting around going over my mental lists) I realized I'm rather behind. The first round of the ebook judging has started and I still have three more books to read before the 7th. I have my own book to be looking into also so I can start writing its sequel. There's also notes needing to be prepared for the Decatur Book Festival , where I will hopefully not embarrass myself. And last night, I found myself joining a critique group, which means even more reading. Sometimes I wonder how I can be so careful and so surprised all the time. But the bright side is that I'm working. Last night at the guild meeting, the group discussed impediments to writing, and what success is to each of us in regards to the process. I heard from people with families, businesses, and other distracti

The vacation officially started this week, but it feels like I haven't done anything in days. Or maybe it's that I haven't done anything I had planned on doing. In my mind, once the drafts of the novels were done, I'd have a pocket of time to take it easy, work on the short story, the play, get some submissions out to agents, and start moving towards the fall/winter project. And I did draft the short story; I even got around to pestering my friends about reading it, but aside from that I've been up to a whole bunch of nothing. However that doesn't mean that things haven't been happening. The Decatur Book Festival got back to me and told me where the event would be (that I'll be participating in) and about how much time I'd have. It was interesting to hear specifics about what things to talk about, what audiences don't want to hear, and how much time to leave open for questions. I was pretty nervous at first, but the event being over a month awa