One Year

Okay, here we go.

I am actually going to do this. I am actually going to try this. I am actually talking to myself in a rapid-fire discussion to both do this, and run away and not do this.

Okay, let’s define “this” at least.

I am going to give myself one year to write.

It seems like a simple sentence, but the truth is it makes my chest tight and my eyes squinty and watery. My whole head wants to explode off of my body. It seems like a simple sentence, but it is a door opening in my heart – my soul – in some other body part that is equally corny and cliche while being full of legitimate meaning to me. It basically means I am going to try something I’ve dreamed of since I was 6 and publishing my own little newspaper and books on notebook paper in my bedroom. A door in me is being opened and I’m so scared I could vomit.

It is remarkably easy to say that all I’ve ever wanted to do is write. It is remarkably easy, and kind of untrue. Of course in order for it to be kind of untrue means that to some degree it is also kind of true.

I am fascinated by story. Story structure, story elements, story tropes, story by written word, by oral tradition, by book, by movie, by music, by gossip, by role-playing games – all of it, any of it, I’m fascinated. I’m invested 100% almost immediately upon seeing once upon a time, or in a galaxy far away, or just hearing some theme music letting me know I’ve got television friends to watch.

What is interesting, is that as I’ve gotten older, I begin to see that all of it is story. All of what we do and say and think about is about story. That isn’t to say that everything is made up, it is more to say that in order for us to understand the everything we need to understand, we make up stories to make things make better sense. I think, to some degree I’m trying to make some stories to try and make the last couple years make sense to me.

2020 sucked. For me, for millions of others, in general it was just a difficult year. But seeing light at the end of my metaphorical tunnel, and being about 70% sure the light I see is just being out and about with humans and not my final deathly resting place, I am seeing the urge to change meet with the ability to change in my mind and world. I really want to try something new and more life-affirming.

I’m going to take the next year and write. Write every day. Write anything. Write everything I think of with no fear. Write and see if I can learn enough in a year to make money with all this writing.

I can’t remember a time when stories haven’t been the focus of my brain. Starting today, I am going to allow the focus of my brain to become the focus of my efforts as well. Now I just need to keep the doombot in my brain from freaking the fuck out and sabotaging my ass by self-destructing, I may be okay.

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