It’s been a couple of days. I’m forgiving myself for that. 

With this post, I’ve succeeded in spelling the word ‘fa├žade’ with the titles of my contributions. Ta-da!

I haven’t had any ideas lately. I haven’t had any new world-ideas or character creations. I haven’t reviewed any of my in-progress works. A lot of my writing expectations feel like they’re hanging on the answer from the publishing company I submitted to this summer. I put so much time and energy into writing my trilogy that I forgot what a joy it was to throw together short scenes like I used to. Like I have always done. 

I am a writer. I write. I love to write. 

What happens when I stop writing? Am I still a writer? 

I have written. Does that make me a wrote?

At what point does your hobby no longer count as your hobby? If you play football all through school (for example) and then never play it again, do you still list ‘playing football’ amongst your hobbies? I read. That’s like watching the games, right? But it isn’t ‘playing’ football. It’s just football. My hobby wouldn’t therefore be ‘writing’ it would be ‘the written’. 

That’s all right, I suppose. I’ll keep working on getting back to where I was. Or onward to where I will be. I’ll never be where I was because I’m not there anymore. Was back then as great as I’ll ever be? Certainly not. Why then to look backward?

The road goes ever on and on…

January 26, 2021

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