Muse

What makes a perfectly sane person sit down at a ‘puter, or even a pad of paper, and begin the weaving of a story? Why would someone attempt to interlace characters, goals, motivations and conflicts into a tale when everyone knows that every story has already been told countless times? Because they’re bonkers, that’s why.

My journey started when I felt the need to do something creative. If I had ignored that need, I’m sure my head would have exploded (which is messy and makes it hard to hold down a full-time job). I’ve never been artistic, or musical, or even craft-y, so I thought I’d try to write something. It was cheap. I could do it from home. Best of all,  it didn’t require me to go to craft stores. How hard could it be?

Uh, yeah.

In about seven years, I’ve started four novels, and finished one. The first warped into a kind of fantasy and while I like it, I didn’t quite know where it was going. I’ll revisit it – I adore the characters – but it’ll be a while. The second one is complete. The third was never more than an outline and a prologue, and the fourth is my current work in progress. It’s geared toward middle/upper grade boys, and I think it could be a three book series revolving around a boy and his favorite manga. (Boys? Manga? Yes, this is my life. You gotta write what you know.)

Has this been easy? No. Have I filled my creative need? Probably. Do I spend as much time on writing as I should? Most certainly not. Am I going to continue? Yes, I think I am. I don’t know if this is my bag, so to speak, but I’m going to press on. I want to know what happens to my characters. I want to surprise myself. And I want to write a book that makes me proud, even if no one else reads it but me.

Kinda like my blog.

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