I Will Not Write

I’m not writing at all today. Not blogging, not typing a damn thing. I can’t do it, nope. It’s too difficult, and I can’t string two words together. I gave up. That last paragraph is pure irony, but I needed to start the ball rolling in regards to a post. I’m a good writer, and I need to keep working and writing.

That’s all I have at the moment. Just remember, if you’re like me, sometimes the doubt shows up, and use it to write a blog post. Something will turn up.

Happy creative endeavors.


Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to all. There’s plenty to be thankful for. I could try and list them, but we’d be here all day and night. I’m so feeling a lot of love and support from family and friends. In that sense, I’m extremely wealthy. You can’t replace that kind of goodness. It’s got a deep, satisfying quality you feel inside.

While in bed, I had all sorts of creative thoughts. I was like, and I’m sleeping (partially) and my creative sparks are flowing. Fortunately, I remember enough to put my thoughts down. I’m happy to have that spark.

Gotta get used to being in South Carolina again. Bye bye Georgia. Eventually I’m gonna go back to visit friends, but that’s getting ahead of myself.

I’m off to write more. I need this.

Happy creative endeavors.

Tales of a Would-Be Literary Darling

Not that I would ever have flights of fancy, or dream of being the creme of the crop as a writer. I’m but one in a sea of thousands of would-be writers. Still the imagination is full of surprises, and turns.

Could I see myself, with a colleague,  sipping on a drinks, and eating a lovely porterhouse steak (with all the fixings). I’d discuss the finer points of the unreliable narrator, or trading tips and opinions on the different styles of writing. Who’s being discussed in academic circles this year? Dare I go off on/about other writers, and their successes (or alternately celebrating). And of course, our woes of writing, and ironing the kinks out. We live for those moments.

I don’t want to even think of how commercial writers outsell us–constantly. We are artists, and our work is magic on pages. If only our hard work could win more readers over. If only they could see there are other ways to write a story, and the method just as viable and (I wish), more profitable.

I jest, but what wouldn’t be more fun to imagine oneself as aspiring to be so capricious, when there’s work to be done?

In reality, I’d love to get my work published in literary magazines, and then turn around and write a few novels along with more short stories. On top of that, I’d love to work on more screenplays and scripts for film, television, comics, and even video games. In reality those wine and steak dinners would be infrequent. The toiling away would be very real. Perhaps the sharing of information and techniques would be the finest point (learn from each other). I can hear a lot of us bitching and moaning about books we hate going to the bestseller’s lists, while we try to break even.

Who knows, perhaps one of us will break through and be published, and make a little fame and fortune. I do dream of having a little of both.  So I’m your literary darling. You just don’t know it yet. 🙂


I moved this weekend, and I’m not 100% up to par. I’m optimistic things shall fall into place. Writing consisted of writing poetry, songs, and jingles today. I have a lot more organizing to do.

I had too much stuff. Was happy to donate some clothes to a friend’s church. Had some clothes I couldn’t donate because they were raggedy and useless.

Right now watching the film, Predator. It’s nice to have a flashback with films.

Happy creative endeavors.

Nothing, Yet Everything

Been slow to blog as I try to clean out my apartment. It’s been rough. Cleaning is a mess. Spent so much time shredding papers and through crap away. At least part of my living room doesn’t look like a hot mess. Just a moderate, slightly clutters mess. The other half looks like a mound of mess. By tonight, I hope to have more ready to hit the junk pile

Writing was not even touched upon this weekend, save me rewriting some names down in my Notes app for future use in stories. I am currently editing a short story I wrote a while back. I always loved the story because it showed some maturity of my skills, but it always lacked that push to a stronger completion. It’s nice to know I don’t have to abandon it, but use what I know now to reinforce its better qualities.

Have yet to submit material to publishers for literary magazines. To be fair, I was trying hard to clean, and spent good effort in getting rid of old stuff.

As always, happy creative endeavors.

P.S. I’m glad to at least write a blog post.

One Chapter Closes

I’m in the process of moving, and that means my apartment is cluttered even more than usual, and it seems like nothing will get where it needs to go. This is cramping my style and I barely did any writing, and I so want to write more. Perhaps a little later today. Perhaps not. I do know, next weekend, I’m giving away some of my older clothes, since they no longer fit, and they are good outfits. I’d hate to throw them in the garbage if someone could get milage out of them.

Was supposed to drink a bottle of water already, but I see I’m gonna have to get in that kitchen, grab that water, and chug it down.

Still have plans to submit some short stories off to lit mags, but that’s not going to be contemplated at them moment. I need to do a lot more to make my living room look semi-decent. I am a hot mess.