A recent career change has left me with vast amounts of "free time", and for some reason I am still having a hard time adapting. Granted, I have been working towards this life style for years, but I guess I wasn't fully prepared to have some dreams become a reality.
Be careful what you wish for?
Perhaps...
With this change, I now have the luxury to read, to write, to think; almost exclusively on my schedule. I have the time to develop skills that are of a intellectual interest; fodder for the mind and soul. First and foremost is the time to write and revise works I simply haven't been able to develop. Getting my ideas out and on paper (or computer) has been the goal for a couple of years with the idea I would clean them up and polish them accordingly - when I had the time, of course.
And now... I do.
A very strange reality, indeed. Yet, how much time have I put into the revisions?
Zero.
Very odd...
What exactly is the hold up?
Nothing, really. I just need to be easier on myself, to be patient with my mind to make the necessary changes required to permit me to "work" on my projects. I also need to remind myself that by "messing" around with computers in the same manner has put me in this new life style!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Thoughts...
I have been reading more and more fiction lately in hopes to better develop my prose as suggested by a recent professor. I have been trying to stick purely to fiction; however, I seem to find myself falling back into non-fiction.
While I understand that reading fiction will only help my writing, I cannot break the habit of learning about the vast amount of subjects that stimulate my mind. I read some great piece of fiction that gets my mind going and then I switch to research mode and get swept up in the learning.
It is an addiction of sorts; that I will not deny. I get an incredible rush when I make new connections, develop new understanding or just learn something entirely new. Perhaps it was that for so many of my early years learning was a challenge; but also, I just never quite thought like the other kids.
And I still don't.
When I first began to get sober I realized for years I let myself believe that I was always wrong; that I just didn't "get it". I spent a lot of time and effort trying to "understand" and "fit in". What a mistake. Now I accept that I don't get it, and I no longer feel that my lack of "understanding" is a bad thing mostly because "it" doesn't make sense!
The world is a crazy and fucked up place. I often think that if I ever understood "it", then either I had caved and comforted, or I had become completely insane. However, I am not so sure these are mutually exclusive...
At any rate, I am wondering if I shouldn't fight the non-fiction urge, to appease the beast to aid in allowing for my fiction to come more easily.
There are so many thoughts, often mixed up between fiction and non-fiction; sometimes they are so actively bouncing off each other my heads spins, quite frankly I feel a bit out of control. I am still working towards that balance of writing, reading and thinking.
Doesn't seem like it should be at difficult, right?
While I understand that reading fiction will only help my writing, I cannot break the habit of learning about the vast amount of subjects that stimulate my mind. I read some great piece of fiction that gets my mind going and then I switch to research mode and get swept up in the learning.
It is an addiction of sorts; that I will not deny. I get an incredible rush when I make new connections, develop new understanding or just learn something entirely new. Perhaps it was that for so many of my early years learning was a challenge; but also, I just never quite thought like the other kids.
And I still don't.
When I first began to get sober I realized for years I let myself believe that I was always wrong; that I just didn't "get it". I spent a lot of time and effort trying to "understand" and "fit in". What a mistake. Now I accept that I don't get it, and I no longer feel that my lack of "understanding" is a bad thing mostly because "it" doesn't make sense!
The world is a crazy and fucked up place. I often think that if I ever understood "it", then either I had caved and comforted, or I had become completely insane. However, I am not so sure these are mutually exclusive...
At any rate, I am wondering if I shouldn't fight the non-fiction urge, to appease the beast to aid in allowing for my fiction to come more easily.
There are so many thoughts, often mixed up between fiction and non-fiction; sometimes they are so actively bouncing off each other my heads spins, quite frankly I feel a bit out of control. I am still working towards that balance of writing, reading and thinking.
Doesn't seem like it should be at difficult, right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)