Hello, it’s been a while.
I feel like I just came home to a wife who I didn’t tell I was going on a 1-month space tour. And now she’s waiting for me at the door, watching me come home with a stupid grin on my face (which is twitching involuntarily in anticipation of a slap).
Look, it’s a long story, don’t make me go into it. Please.
Kiss. Make up.
Forgiven? Good. Now come see what I’ve got for you in my goodie bag.
Been writing a lot lately. Elizabeth Gilbert drove a nail into my metaphorical head with this.
And so, I made the commitment. 30 minutes bowing before the glorious timer (not the microwave’s, too many blackouts for that to be feasible). And what do you know? Two short stories and a bunch of first drafts later and I’ve gotten more done in 30 days than I did in the 3 preceding months.
In other news, I had another epiphany (the third one since I went on my one-month trip) and everything makes sense – I was born to write. Writing may not pay the bills today, but it will someday (it had better). This is what I came here to do, and as long as there’s a sun beating down on my head every time I step out onto the street, I’ll keep putting pen to paper (or finger to keyboard).
Just like every epiphany, a lot of stuff now make sense in hindsight – my personality (INFP), my obsessive nature, the frustration every time I’m censored,
If you’re a parent, I’m going to say something to you I wish someone told my parents when I was kid – if your kid is gifted, don’t just leave him/her in school, coasting along.
Get involved. It’s called active parenting. At least, it should be.
It is your duty to help your kids find their place of giftedness, their bent as some authors call it.
Guide them. Counsel them. Let them know as much as they can about everything. But please, let them know who they are – let them take tests, go out, meet people, travel… Hmmm, you know what? This should be a post all by itself. So, here.
As far writing goes, here’s something interesting. Never ever underestimate the power of the first draft. It’s the hardest part of anything you’re gonna write. And it’s the part that requires you to kill your inner editor. You see, if you’re like me, you write with a clone of yourself looking over your shoulder, constantly criticizing every word as it leaves your fingers.
That clone is the devil. He’s going to stunt your writing, discourage you, make your life a living hell.
I mean it. Stab him, drag him into the field and leave him to the vultures. You know what? This deserves its own blog post. So here you go again.
One of my new hobbies is reading short stories, fantasy and sci-fi, so here’s one. It’s entry level fantasy so I think you’ll find it accessible enough. Have a tissue ready though. Broke my heart.
P.S. You may think I’m overcompensating for the one-month leave. You’re right, I am. The silent treatment can be quite unnerving. So leave a comment, just to let me know we’re cool.