The Problem With Prose

22 Aug

I was talking to a friend last night and the subject of writing came up. I realized, halfway through the conversation, that I haven’t posted anything on my blog in over a year. The more I thought about it, the sadder I got – writing is one of my absolute favorite things to do, and yet I’ve barely written anything in more than a year. I’ve dabbled in some poetry, written a couple drafts of stories (which I quickly discarded), and even slowed down on my reading of others’ writings. How sad!

It’s not that my goals have changed, really. I still want to be an author someday. I still want to see my name on the spine of a book, or beneath an article on a well-read publication. I want to hold my own book in my hands and give it to someone else. I want to receive a paycheck for something that I’ve created myself, something truly original. Those are still things I want to see happen.

It’s not that I think I’ve somehow gotten worse at writing. Sure, I haven’t had a good idea for a story in a long, long time, but I still think that I can write that story once I get the idea for it. I still think my writing style is unique and interesting, that my words are creative, and that I have the ability to construct an intriguing world that others would be interested in reading.

It’s more that, over the last year, my priorities have changed, not my goals. I still have the same dreams, the same ideals, and the same standards for myself, but now they seem harder to reach and like they’re part of a future that’s a little farther away. I have a ‘real’ adult job working for a ministry that I love. I have an apartment that I sometimes like and sometimes drives me crazy. I have friends that mean everything to me. My family is incredibly important. (those last two have always been important, but losing my best friend really puts perspective on how important these people are)

I spend most of my time now working. A lot of my free time is spent worrying about adult things like having to have my own healthcare next year, if I can afford rent, when I should take out the trash, and what I can eat that is affordable and still good for me. Being an adult is really hard, guys!

Most of my creative energy goes into crochet projects. I’m currently in the middle of a blanket (using a pattern I created myself, yay!) and a stuffed animal for a friend. I’ve been more than a little obsessed with Pokemon Go, but I mean, c’mon, who isn’t obsessed with that game, am I right? When I’m not doing that, I’m probably napping. I seem to nap more than most toddlers I know…it’s a problem. I also picked up the ukulele and am trying to teach myself how to play it. It’s a work in progress, but I’m getting there.

I’ve said/written/thought/promised this more times than I care to count, but I’m going to try to write more. I want to finish so many stories that I started a long time ago; I want to spend more time reading; I want to do so many things. I will do my best to fit them all in, and hopefully this blog will not be neglected for so long next time around. We’ll see, I suppose.

The problem with prose is that you have to have a good idea to feel like it’s worth writing down. The problem is that you have to have time to write. The problem is that I just haven’t made myself sit down and write. Hopefully, those are problems I can fix. I’ll certainly do my very best.

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Posted by on August 22, 2016 in Uncategorized


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