I miss staying up until the wee hours writing or making art. (If you have a fondness for the night and listen to podcasts, then listen to Nocturne, by the way. It’s a favorite of mine.)
So now on this sunny, pleasant afternoon, my projects await.
They call. They trip me up. They beg.
Finish us, please!
The half-lives I’ve given them persist. It’s remarkable, really, how they do not die.
I haven’t been kind leaving them unable to live out in the world on their own, like some mad scientist with a lock on the laboratory door, or some delusional parent telling the world their child is too sick to go out. What’s Munchausen syndrome by proxy for writers? Sorry. I can’t let my story out to play, it has plot holes. Sorry. My story must get help. Its characters aren’t developed. Oh, my story isn’t strong enough for have readers visit.
Look at how hard I’m working to make my story shine?
Oh dear. This post took an unexpected turn, but it’s helped me put things in perspective. Sometimes our stories really do need help and sometimes we are unable to let them go. (Of course, some writers have the opposite problem. Like parents who force their kids to grow up too soon and toss them out unprepared into the world, some writers send their half-raised stories out to play and are shocked when those stories get into trouble.)
Well, enough of ridiculous analogies. My stories are calling.
Thank for reading, and if you want to see more art or support my work, here you go.