I took about an hour and went back to read my blog from the beginning. I hadn't taken a long look back since January. It is always illuminating to look back and remember vividly where you were at the beginning of a journey. This blog had a purpose in the beginning.
Brutal introspection.
I think that mission has been largely fulfilled. I won't claim that I've refined my craft to a razor's edge or that I've found any peace with the road I've chosen. I can't say that having finished one book, I'm any better prepared to write a second. I can indulge in only the stretch of road I've already walked.
Quiet retrospection.
There are no words for how I feel right now. There are destinations in life that cannot be given to the page as mere text, and only conveyed in person. Does your favorite story sound better when you tell it? Does anything rival the first time that yarn was spun between you and the person relating the tale? Yeah, you totally had to be there to get it.
The writing I am most proud of, has an oral tradition. Much of the exploits of the characters in the first book I wrote, were related first verbally to an audience. Such is the basis for all my recent works. I have known for some time this would eventually be the case, as is the natural progression of storytelling.
I've done more than my fair share obfuscating that fact with the people closest to me. Not to say that I didn't state my intent. It had been said to me many times, "You really ought to write all this down." Should I meet any of those folks in the future, I can honestly say that's exactly what I've done.
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