Two Years
By H.G. Miller
So, I guess I’ve been doing this for another year now. It’s been a lot harder lately. I don’t like that. I think the talent is still there, but it’s a lot harder to find my muse sometimes. I want to be serious, or funny or brilliant. Somewhere in there, I hope to be entertaining, but I find that I bore myself. A lot.
I used to tell myself that writing was the easy part. It was editing that always took so much time and so much fun out of it. Lately, I seem to be editing myself before I ever get started. It isn’t right. Not for me.
I want to have fun with this. I want to make stupid jokes about how the everyday things in life cause me so much grief and amusement. I don’t like thinking that this is the only chance I have to get out of my life as it is. The writing. The writing has always been my escape from reality, but now there’s this real tension to it. It’s not about escaping my personal reality for a few moments, it’s about changing the reality of my whole life.
Gotta sell, gotta sell, gotta sell…
Gots to be brilliant with this one. Has to be funnier than the rest. Has to be the one I use to catapult myself above the massive crowd of unknowns trying to dig themselves out of this same ditch.
I missed two deadlines at the end of last year. That was hard. You see, I’m a newspaper guy at the very core and deadlines are what it’s all about. I had good excuses, for sure. Working three or four sixty hour weeks to make up for the loss of a few co-workers can drag on the soul and make it a little difficult to focus on whimsy.
But, I made it. I’m back and fighting on into the third year of this little exercise of mine. I’m trying my best not to take it too seriously. I’m trying to let myself enjoy the process of throwing words onto a page and seeing if they strike a chord. I’m all about the mixing of the metaphors.
So, thanks for sticking with me, people. It may not be pretty and it may not be on time, but it’s mine. And, it’s way better than nothing.