It occurred to me less than five minutes ago that I may have missed my calling. Did the rock / r&b drummer thing (loved it, miss it!), me and Excel are tighter than pantyhose two sizes too small but accounting is a bit, well, soulless. I love, love, LOVE writing!
Expected a “but”, didn’t you? No buts on that one, I love to write! Still determining the difference between writer and storyteller because I don’t like to use a lot of words. I often feel inadequate because my style is so raw and lean compared to the average author. On the other hand, my readers (the ones I’ve discussed this with) think that it sets me apart. I liken my style to The Atkins Diet: all protein, no carbs. But I digress to…
-Conversation between my brother and I on Sunday night.
Never been to a book signing before but my old friend Kat (feel free to like her Facebook page here) works with an author named Colette Freedman who had two signings in the L.A. area this past weekend to support her week-old release, The Thirteen Hallows. I forgot about Friday’s event in Pasadena but Kat was kind enough to text me on Saturday night with a reminder about Sunday afternoon’s event in Burbank. I agreed to go and then looked up Colette’s bio…
What do you do when you don’t feel it, when creating art feels like 10 parts chore, 0 parts joy?
I’ve only written one blog in the past week so what should I do? Try to force something out that will make the stats climb again, build interest, blah blah blah?
The truth is that I’m not that interested right now. I mean, I am but there’s big wide world (of sports?) out there to explore and I sat in the house for the better part of a year. It’s time to live, go on adventures, find inspiration that will fuel the writing.
Which means that it isn’t time to write some transparent, paper-thin crap that feels like a reach at best. All my artist friends will be able to relate to the following: