Quite possibly a false perception on my part, but it is rather disconcerting to see progress in your peers while your own life spins in the mud, burrowing deeper into stagnant muck. I take very slight comfort in my age, thinking that the lower thirties aren't quite a lost cause, but nevertheless a call for concern. Looking into my bag of tricks isn't encouraging, there's really nothing beyond the usual card tricks or a string of multi-colored hankerchieves that most employers have not already seen done or done better, so I'm basically starting off at ground zero. I'm not better than a recent high school grad, except there will be this cavervous gap that I'll have to account for whereby my career stalled in the wrong lane, seemingly oblivious to the other open available lanes next to me. I can't help but be frustrated and guilt-ridden at my desire for more. It isn't more money, or a glorified position, but rather finding my place in this world doing something that I'm gifted at. My great hope is that November is a month of obligation, that even a shoddy first draft will be enough to warm my blood to yearn for more inspiration. I have to write to stay afloat from drowning in my pool of utter despair.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Been writing in a blogging conversational style now for so long I'm not entirely sure if I can write an actual story now, let alone a novel in one month. November isn't even here yet and I have tangible anxiety about the deadline, but I guess that's what National Novel Writing Month is all about. Self imposed pressure to put pen to paper. I had a couple ideas for outlines but really nothing concrete quite yet. I think the biggest obstacle right now is just starting. Deciding a tone, characters, and just trying to figure out which foot to start out with.