When I started on this blog almost two years ago, I had big goals for posting regularly, posting about my writing projects, and above all writing out thoughtful posts.
I stopped posting for a while this winter because I ran out of thoughts. There I was as blank-eyed, and as lacking in inspiration as a...
Still, you may have noticed that last month’s posts consisted of photos and book reviews. I should probably note here that I wrote all except the last of those posts at the end of April, and scheduled them out through May.
Why? Because I’ve been busy. Preoccupied, you might say.
Now I’m back—sort of—and I’m trying to write again.
Not just an occasional book review, but something solid, something productive, something to do with a novel.
I have half a dozen novels in my brain right now, but I’d settle for just one.
Writing, however, seems to mean dealing with lots of impossible things. I could list scores of examples, but I’ll just mention the problem of sitting down to get something done on a regular schedule. It sounds impossible right?
It is a bit of a challenge, I must confess, especially after neglecting my writing for about six months.
I’ve written bits and pieces along the way, but I’ve been distracted. (A very good distraction, yes, but that’s neither here nor there—I refuse to be distracted from my topic right now.) At any rate, it seems almost impossible to clean out the dust and rubble of half-forgotten stories.
Fortunately, I'm also learning a lot about impossible things, and it seems they do happen. What things, you ask?
How about a dogfish, that is a catfish? Or rather, a catshark?
Or, what puts a fireman into the same category as a computer programmer? Apparently, both are creator/craftsmen personality types.
What if Mordor is across the river from the Philadelphia zoo? Though I wonder what the lions think about that. (And please, please—let me know if you happen to visit there and catch a glimpse through the Morannon.)
And, a video clip a friend sent me shows that it's possible to make an orchestra out of landfill rubbage:
So, who am I to say it’s impossible to write a simple thing like a novel?
(I'll get back to you on that one.)