Time has passed. Ideas have been neglected and have therefore rotted on the vine of my brain and though they are still there, they are but shriveled rasins of ideas now. Luckily I have more, but it does feel almost like a death when you know that you've lost the momentum of an original and brand new, fresh baked idea. I am in mourning at present.
There is no good excuse for my absence and as no one has read this blog that I have told no one about (unless there is someone out there that has been reading it just as quietly as I have been writing it) I don't suppose I owe anyone an apology other than myself for not having taken the time to cultivate the fruit of my brains into a fine wine of entertaining reading for another person at another time... Or an ever so slightly more convincing reason to be apologising to myself for having let myself down so very much, could just be that I have potentially lost the plot (pun intended).
In the near future I am going to be making yet another drastic change to my life and it is going to enable me to speand a lot more time doing the thing that I honestly love to do. This blog is merely practice of that activity and fortunately no one is looking to see just how badly I can do when I put my mind to trying something new, doing it in a hurry, and then not bothering to edit it afterwards regardless of how irritating I find some of my own errors in grammar and prose.
This is also a momentum building tool to me. I write here in the buildup to writing something bigger, badder, and better (that I actually bother to edit afterwards despite my hatred of editing). It makes the longer and more detailed stories feel like coasting downhill. This is the uphill part. The hard part that makes me sweat and I do honestly celebrate at the end of each one... well the stories that is, the commentary like this is the easiest part of all, sorry if that confused you.
I realise that it's because this blog COULD, in theory at least, be seen by eyes other than my own. This leaves me unsettled. These are my words and my thoughts and my ideas and who said anyone else was allowed to know them? Well you see - therein lies the rub. I need to get used to being read. I need to get used to not hoarding every single line I write for my own self satisfied indulgence and viewing pleasure alone. I need to realise that I will be a very starving, very cold, and very poor artist in the near future if I don't set out to perform for others.
That was the whole idea behind this blog and regardless of if anyone is currently reading; it's helping me to know that you random strangers could be reading it. You could tell me I am doing a terrible job. You could point and jeer at my mistakes, my cheap and piss poor (at times) stories that don't quite reach their potential or intended purpose.
It's okay though and I'll tell you why. Even if I write something I know is really bad, I still at least wrote it and beat procrastination. Then I also annalyze why it's bad. What made it bad. What would I need to change to make it good...
So there you have it. Even though you, oh random stranger, YOU! could be reading my work and saying to yourself that it's the most awful thing you've read in your life... Well, I have the advantage there because in my mind I've already identified what I needed to fix, to change, to edit, and I've got my own secret stash in my head that I share with no one... because that is where the money is. And if this is going to be my craft, my livelihood... I am going to need to keep the best stuff for myself and can't share it for free. However you are more than welcome to pick it up in your local book store once I am published and I will of course be eternally in your debt because not only am I going to make you support me in exchange for telling you a story, but I'm also going to be using you, even the idea of you if not the real thing, to enable myself to do this.
Dear reader, I am thinking of you when I write. I am petrified of you. Please be gentle if you do exist...
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