I’m sick of being off the wagon and when I say wagon, I mean not writing. And when I say not writing, what I’m saying is not wagglin’, up to speed? I have so many projects in the works which I feel like is a good thing, though up until a few months ago when I dropped off the literary world (yes, don’t feel bad, I was the only one who noticed) I chose to focus on one project, all the while still blogging once or twice a week.
I guess I kinda just stopped when I got sober, then I was consumed with the quick move, then I dropped a phlippin’ pallet on my foot and here I am today. With that itch. The itch that only a writer can know. It pushes him off the couch and escorts him to the laptop. Or cell phone. Or typewriter. Or the falcon feathertip dipped in high grade ink.
A writer cannot fight these urges. In fact, he embraces them because in those somber moments, he realizes his calling is true and real. The gift cannot be turned down. So here I am. Rarin’ to go.
But with what? I did put hard core commitment into the screenplay I started back in April. I also would really like to get back into the Cookbook for the Incompetent Male. When I tell people I’m working on it, I’d like to actually be literally furthering it to completion as opposed to it being a dozen or so recipes with many more to go.
The five sitcom scripts I wrote, I genuinely seemed to improve with each one so I should probably continue at number six and go from there. But possibly the most important project of all is the completed first draft of my novella “Buried Yet Breathing”, the work I am most proud of. A second draft is in order, and I need to delve back into the world of finding a publisher willing to take on a first timer.
Another aspect I’m adamant on in this writing game is the continued education on the subjects and all relatable material. It’s what grows me as a writer the most, I would think anyway. And then, as is in my creative mind, a new project is always an excitement in itself, though at this point and especially considering the hiatus, previously started projects are needing my attention the most.
And in this new found sobriety, there’s honestly no reason I can’t finesse a few things at once, am I wrong? Top priority has to be the screenplay. That’s where my heart has returned to, and now to reimmurse myself in that universe, of two terminal lovers, facing death with as much (or maybe as little) dignity as possible. It is a dark project but one with a story needing to be told.
So that’s that. The reawakening has taken place, the documentation of said experience is about to be published and there is nothing left but to slide into the soft embrace of the passion that gives me the most breath.