Had to take a break from the blog and even my journal.
Writing fiction eight hours a day somewhat precludes being honest with one's self within the confines of the same medium. I like where I've been in the last six months, where I am, and where I'm going. Those people that have problems, avoid them, while displacing blame and accountability? My friend Tara thinks that vice and virtue aren't that different, in fact, interchangeable.
I spent the better part of 2008 and 2009 completely avoiding the things that were eating me to the point of gross neglect. Now I feel like I'm at the other side of the tunnel pointing, all my discipline bent to tackle the next problem, and there aren't any. My friend Andrea would like me to be happy, and in her own way pointed out that I'm my own problem in that ... problem.
The last six months, I spent most of it using up my sorrow to evoke change, and to write. Now that I'm down the road, 35-50 page a week for six months... I have the basis for many books both fiction, RPG, and... well, philosophical. Some of it is going to get self-published because I want it to be mine. Copyrights, trademarks, the works... but not to protect the possible (extremely dubious) financial benefits. I really want these works to be more than just written by me, I want to own them in the most temporal and worldly way possible.
I want to say that I'm a writer. I'll probably never have a degree or a piece of paper issued to me that proves that, unless I write it myself. Right now, if people ask me what I do... I tell them I'm unemployed passing the time in a converted garage writing random stuff. My wife gives me more credit. Nevertheless, it is something better to put my energy towards than ... well, being morbidly depressed.