I'm supposed to be writing at the moment, but thought I should take some time real fast to share how I feel. I'm good.
No, really. I'm good.
For some reason, the writing world doesn't seem so dark and foreboding. There's not this giant cloud of "I must get published" hanging over me which, by the way, kind of was around since I restarted writing back in 2009. I don't know why I feel this way. It's not that today was super special. I got a rejection letter and didn't fret. At all. I got a request from an editor and didn't rush to send the file. Nope. I'm just chillin', enjoying the journey. And that's what this is. A journey.
Perhaps it took me a few years to realize what I've posted in the heading of this blog. It's not a rush. Well, it's not for me. It's a JOURNEY. And for me, it's been good times.
While not evident on this blog, I can tell you that my writing has improved a lot over these past few years. That's something to feel good about. There was 20 years of rust to shake off when I resumed my passion to write. Yeah, 20 years of not writing a word. Not one. My wife didn't even know I loved writing. I had stopped before meeting her. 20 years is a long time for bad habits, poor storytelling, and everything else that can hinder a writer to set in. The rust is gone now. I feel like it is.
And I have plenty of story ideas. Lots of them. There's something else to feel good about. I'll never run out of material. Never. If I were to drop everything else in my life and just write, I'd be busy for years with all of the ideas I have notes for at the moment. I'll get to some. Perhaps. Or I'll write something else.
That's the last thing I want to share tonight. Writers write. We know that. Others know that. It's true. It's all I do. Once the kids are in bed, I'm plotting or writing or editing or something. There's always a gear turning the writer's mind inside of me. Writing is what I do. And that makes me happy.