In the time since my last entry, I’ve continued to work from home due to the continued spread of COVID-19, the world (namely the states) have erupted with social unrest because too many humans still don’t know how to act decent and worthy of the air they breathe, and I experienced traveling during both of these pandemics.

I want to say I’ve been making the most of my time, spending it creatively and wisely, but it’s been a struggle. I’ve finished two short stories, written a grip of pages for a third; I’ve written a few local interest stories for my organization’s sister site, but since the semester ended, I have not been nearly as creative as I would have liked to be. It’s all in there–the fuel, the ideas–but nothing wants to budge.

It’s pretty easy to get angry about this–to look back at the work of my predecessors in literature who went through equally trying (if not worse) times, and see that they were highly productive. At the very least, they turned out works that are still praised today, one hundred or more years ago. Why can’t I do that? Why can’t I come up with something brilliant, life-changing for others–something that brings a sense of justice, grace, and positive restoration to this horrific circumstance? I’ve been cheated out of so many other things in this lifetime–why can’t I have and also give this?

There is no making up for anything. We’d all like to think so, but my life has so far proven that it’s a myth. The tails tied onto my kite that are supposed to help it soar higher only weigh it down more. There are some things I can do to try and cut those loose, but every small victory ribbon has the potential to catch on some dead and gnarled branch. Maybe there’s still a bud of a green leaf on there–that little bit of life that captures my interest, but will never grow and become free to its and my fullest delight–and ultimately, it just stunts me more and makes me withdraw even further from the things that could still offer the good–why take the risk? Because I’m a fool–I will always take the risk. It’s just that the temptations have to be that much more intriguing, that much more impressive and that’s a rarity. And when it comes to people…well, let’s just say that a few have caused the bar to be higher for all the rest. Don’t blame me–blame them.

There’s an early morning ramble for you. Back on task–

I’ve put the story writing on hold for the sake of trying to edit through Darling Orphan. It’s almost criminal that it’s been hanging out there for so long. And just as I said the last time: it needs to be done. There’s so much in it that I need to put to rest, and the only way to do it is to get the book cleaned up and released. Here’s hoping it will at long last see that moment..