For years I convinced myself that I didn't need to write. The world is full of writers, and the last thing it needs is another book.
This wasn't a bad thing to tell myself, because in truth I couldn't write while I was struggling to keep my store alive. I had to earn a living.
But now that I'm back to writing, it's like I'm addicted to it. I really like doing it, I feel like it's what I should be doing, it's very fulfilling. When I'm not writing, I feel like I'm at loose ends.
Even if it goes nowhere, even if it meets universal rejection, this shit is going to happen.
I can see the road ahead very clearly, and the road is full of words.
I doubt at this point anything could pull me away from writing, even if the old "have to make a living" situation returns. I've put off this creative thing for too long.
I'm fascinated by it. How it works, why it works.
I'm also sort of closing in. Things are getting shed. I'm making time for writing by not watching as much television or going to the movies or traveling or reading books or keeping up with the news, etc. etc.
Thank god I have an understanding wife, who is also a writer. She told someone the other day -- "Writing is our retirement." But it's more than that. That description feels like a kind of doddering goal. I have every ambition to try to get good, to create something people want to read.
I'm not looking for outside input anymore, even on my writing. (This is not to say, I don't want input on What I'm Writing, if you catch the difference.) I've spent the last thirty years taking in input, information on a constant basis, and now I'm sort of putting blinders on and concentrating on what's in my head.
There feels like there is a lot of stuff inside me that wants to get out, stories I want to tell, characters I want to invent.
The flow of words just feels natural and right. I hope it just keeps coming.
This shit is going to happen.
5 hours ago