So, has it been a year already? For a year I’ve been working on what has become my not-good-enough novella, born from the ashes of my blogging every day in April challenge. What a fun, productive time…that has led to the book being shortlisted, and subsequently denied publication, twice.
I am grateful for that. It is nice to know that I am making strides. I’ve made it at least some way. I’m improving.
I’m still hesitant to try anything creative, a lot of the time. Blank pages make me angry and sad. But I do write best with a schedule, with a word count. Maybe I should try to write at a Nanowrimo pace again…despite my abundance of work and school time spent away from my writing. Gotta make time to make art.
Maybe I’m not cut out for it. Maybe I’m having a huge gigantic crisis that’s eating at every part of my life. What is anything, anymore? What are we all here for? Why make art in the first place, if its so hard and grueling and so rarely rewarding?