It has been basically forever since I’ve written a book.
(And I also didn’t post anything yesterday, for which I will remind you that I did, in fact, warn that I’m slightly a perfectionist. Hence, there will be days when the circumstances just aren’t there for me to post something. Many apologies in advance.)
I like to think of myself as a writer, even though I’ve never actually gotten anything published. I’ve been telling stories since I could speak (which I began doing fluently at the age of 18 months…may my poor mother find peace as I haven’t stopped talking since.) The first novel I ever wrote was when I was 8. I’d written short stories before that, but this was my first novel. And it was, I’ll just spit it out, a Lord of the Rings novel because, again I’ll just throw this out there while it’s still early enough to, every single ounce of my inner nerd resides in Middle Earth. This novel was a whopping 66 pages long (which isn’t bad for an 8 year old if I do point out myself), and I was incredibly proud of it. Now that I look back on it, I’ve no idea where the manuscript went. I’d pretty much love to find it, though. Wouldn’t that be interesting!
But now that we jump forward to today, I’ve written quite a few books over the years but it has been about a year and a half since I’ve written one. Which is basically the most ridiculous thing ever invented on this earth! I’ve always been pretty confident in my writing skills; it is the one thing that I’ve always felt that I could do at least tolerably well. When I write novels I generally don’t do outlines, I just sit down and write. I’ve got a few big points I know that I have to get to and other than that I just let my imagination run wild. And so, this long break which I had absolutely no intention of taking has been really, really hard on me. It would be different if it were a case of writer’s block, which I also have never really experienced, but I don’t think this is the case here. I have about 10 novels on my computer that are started to various degrees. But none of them are particularly calling my name. And what is the meaning of this? I have absolutely no idea. I’ve written a little bit of poetry lately, just so that I can write something and because I’ve always wanted to improve in that area. But still, I feel rather stuck.
And the reason that I shpiel about this to you, reader, is because on my About page I did, in fact, promise posts about my writing. This one is pretty groundbreaking, huh? Wow, if you’ve gotten this far, I apologize more than I could ever say. This makes post number two in which I fear that I’ve killed you. Here, look at these puppies: