Thursday, June 26, 2014

Can I Still Call Myself a Writer?

As of late, my personal writing has taken a bit of a backseat to my every day life. For a while, I told myself that things were all right, since I was doing a lot of writing for work. And for a time, that was enough. I saw my writing improve, and my {professional, at least} style change and evolve for the better. 

The past few months, though, things have stagnated. I told myself it was because I'd been sick, gone through some personal struggles, and started a new job. I made excused. Now I'm afraid that I'm just not a writer anymore. You would think that someone who feels "called to the profession" would use any part of the day to write - whether it be short journal entries, character ideas, pages of dialogue, or just a to-do list. 

But I don't. 

That's not entirely true. I write to-do lists at work, and I send upwards of 15 emails a day. I write notes back and forth with friends on Facebook, and every once in a great while, I'll write a quick journal entry. 

This isn't enough, though. I'm no longer progressing like I was. In fact, I've begun to feel like my ability to wordsmith is tarnishing. And I need to start polishing it up. 

I'd like to finish this lament about how I'm going to set a bunch of goals, buy a new notebook, and set out 8 hours a day just to write. But I won't do that. Setting my sights so high will only cause me to fail even harder when I can't live up to these ridiculous expectations. 

Instead, I'm acknowledging that I'm not yet where I want to be, and reminding myself that I'm not so far gone that I should give up hope on a dream I've had forever. 

Maybe I'll set some goals. I'll probably set some goals. But I'm going to take it slow. And maybe, in a little while, I'll have some words worth sharing. 

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

How to Feel Rich: Books and Chocolate

I swear, there's nothing better than lazing around, reading a really good book, and eating really good chocolate. It just seems so luxurious to me, being curled up with a blanket, reading something really interesting, and then every once in a while, stuffing square after square of fancy chocolates into my mouth. 

It means I have the time and place to settle in to a story, plus enough spending money to splurge on a bar or two of gourmet chocolate {at least when they're on sale}.