A SCRIBE IN HIBERNATION?

I’m stuck in this weird creative phase where I have ideas but I don’t want to do anything with them.

I’m not sure what to make of it. Normally, when I’m not writing, it’s because I am uninspired and unable to force my way through a work in progress. This time things keep coming to mind and just staying there. As of this writing, there are 3 main ideas in my head to be completed and one novel that is more than halfway finished. The other three are the first 30 pages of a novel I think might be my best work, and two short stories.

Lately, my inspiration is coming from strange places. The most recent came when I saw a homeless woman in summer walking around in full weather gear. People who know me might not be surprised that the first thing that came to mind was, “What would it be like if someone was madly in love with this woman?”

Then, of course, the next logical question came to mind: What if she wasn’t what she seemed, and everybody except the lovesick protagonist knew it? A story like that can only be told from one of two perspectives: Either the lovesick puppy himself, or someone who can’t believe how it all wound up. I went with the former and got almost 4 pages written before I stopped. Sadly, it was flowing nicely but the demands of a 40-hour workweek forced me to go to bed in the middle of my inspiration and it has yet to return.

Maybe I am still disappointed and disgusted with the events recounted in previous posts concerning my publisher. Within a week, I had gone online to research other venues for short fiction to submit some of my other work. This seemed to make her nervous but so be it. I can’t sit still anymore and, besides, short story submissions don’t affect the novel in any way whatsoever. In fact, published short fiction can only increase my marketability.

But I have to finish a story first. Blank white paper doesn’t inspire confidence in most editors. They’re weird that way.

I do have some older short stories I’ve been thinking of submitting and have even had some recommendations in that direction. I might dig those up and see what I can salvage. Any writer who goes back and looks at something they wrote seven years ago and feels it doesn’t need any modification is a fraud. I don’t mind improving older work, but I can’t seem to find the motivation for that either.

I wish I knew why. I wish I could point to a single incident and say, “This is the reason.” But I can’t. Maybe someone else can.

I must confess I’m a bit burned out on writing in general. There are days, more often than not lately, when I consider giving it up completely. One can only bang one’s head against a wall so many times before they either pass out or realize the ramming isn’t accomplishing anything worthwhile.

I’ve been told I’m a natural storyteller, whatever the hell that means. It sounds like a compliment, though. People do seem to find it interesting when I am relating actual events in print, as evidenced by the two incarnations of this blog.

Could it be that the nearly instant gratification received from posting here has ruined my ability to be patient and await publication? It’s possible. I’ve become rather spoiled by this particular outlet. Sadly, it isn’t even a forum what I consider my best work.

But I’m pretty sure there’s more to the “story.”

I think I’m tired, burned out, exhausted. I think I have reached the limit of my legendarily lengthy patience. I have done all that was required of me and more. This has been an overall decent year for me, but there have been a few blows and light upper cuts to my resolve that have shaken me. Both private and professional lives have been subject to no small measure of disappointment this year.

In the “old days,” such experiences were what inspired me to write. That’s still the case to a certain extent, but I am getting older and my perspective has shifted a bit. One of the favorite quotes is, “Time is the fire in which we burn.” Supposedly I have quite a few years left barring any accidents, but time marches ever onward while I watch it go past.

One can only write about that so many times before tiring of the theme. It isn’t as if I don’t have plenty of other forms of inspirations. Certain people who shall remain nameless seem tom have taken it upon themselves to provide it for as often as possible, a fact for which I am exceedingly grateful. I just can’t seem to do much with it these days.

Well, anyway I just felt like sharing something dull about myself. I know this isn’t up to par with my more dynamic and highly info-training posts, but I needed to get it out.

Thanks for listening~


-Scribe