Over the weekend, an old friend of mine suggested that I do a "blog challenge." Write something new everyday for a month. Well, it seemed like a good idea, and inspiring as well. She has taken part in month long photo challenges of her own you see. She's quite a talented artist/photographer, check her out at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/singlecupofcoffee to view some of her work.
Well, being a supposed writer, I really ought to branch out and work on more than one project at a time. Currently, as you may know, I'm working on a second manuscript which let's be honest, I'm very much procrastinating on. I should be way farther ahead than I am now, since I do have some readers who are demanding another piece of work immediately. Which is incredibly nice and humbling, but also a bit stressful.
I'm thinking if I challenge myself to one post a day for a month, not only will be give me something new to do, but it might also give me some fresh ideas, either for a new project, or to integrate into the one I'm currently working on.
So, here's me announcing that my one month blog challenge will take place during the month of March. A post a day for 31 days.
Did you ever consider taking part in a personal challenge?
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
On Milestones
My best friend is turning 30 on Saturday. 30! This seems somewhat unbelievable to me since I've known him since I was 11. The worst part of him turning 30 is... I'm not far behind. Granted, I'll be turning 29 this summer, and not 3-0, but when I take a step back and look at the bigger picture, it's the last year of my twenties (gasp.)
Age is just a number right? Well, certain numbers can certainly make you feel shitty right? While I've got some accomplishments under my belt for a person of my age, ie: I work in an office, I own my own home, I bought my first ever brand new car a few months ago, I'm married, I've got three pets, oh, and I published a book. Not too shabby for a 28 year old. (I apologize for the horn tooting.) These accomplishments are wonderful, but I still feel as though I'm lacking somewhere. I can't help but fixate on my flaws and I think a 28 year old shouldn't be like this.
I've only got a few passions in my life, which may never take me anywhere. Books, writing, and photography. Now, I suppose I could take off with writing or taking pictures, but I'm not entirely sure I've got the wherewithal the actually push myself. I mean, I love these things, shouldn't I find a way to live off of them? Or maybe I'm not pushing myself too hard because deep down I feel like if I get paid to do something I love, it might take the love out of the activity. Anyone else ever feel this way?
But let me get back to my pal. He's had a shitty go of things within the last three years. There have been plenty of good times sprinkled in, but I think right now, the bad is overpowering the good. The rest of my friends and I have been plotting and planning for months what to do for this guy's big birthday. We thought, oh we'll throw a surprise birthday party. Well, he's had like four surprise parties in a row, I think we've played that out. So, I just talked to him about it, I said: "What do you want to do for your birthday?" He just wanted a simple bash at his place. Sounds simple enough... done.
It's been hard lately for me to be excited about anything at all, but I find myself increasingly excited about this guy's birthday party. It will be a celebration with all out friends, and hopefully some laughs and memorable times. Wahoo.
On a completely separate note, I hate it when people stop at my cube to "chat." Jeez, I've got my back turned to the hallway for a reason people.
Age is just a number right? Well, certain numbers can certainly make you feel shitty right? While I've got some accomplishments under my belt for a person of my age, ie: I work in an office, I own my own home, I bought my first ever brand new car a few months ago, I'm married, I've got three pets, oh, and I published a book. Not too shabby for a 28 year old. (I apologize for the horn tooting.) These accomplishments are wonderful, but I still feel as though I'm lacking somewhere. I can't help but fixate on my flaws and I think a 28 year old shouldn't be like this.
I've only got a few passions in my life, which may never take me anywhere. Books, writing, and photography. Now, I suppose I could take off with writing or taking pictures, but I'm not entirely sure I've got the wherewithal the actually push myself. I mean, I love these things, shouldn't I find a way to live off of them? Or maybe I'm not pushing myself too hard because deep down I feel like if I get paid to do something I love, it might take the love out of the activity. Anyone else ever feel this way?
But let me get back to my pal. He's had a shitty go of things within the last three years. There have been plenty of good times sprinkled in, but I think right now, the bad is overpowering the good. The rest of my friends and I have been plotting and planning for months what to do for this guy's big birthday. We thought, oh we'll throw a surprise birthday party. Well, he's had like four surprise parties in a row, I think we've played that out. So, I just talked to him about it, I said: "What do you want to do for your birthday?" He just wanted a simple bash at his place. Sounds simple enough... done.
It's been hard lately for me to be excited about anything at all, but I find myself increasingly excited about this guy's birthday party. It will be a celebration with all out friends, and hopefully some laughs and memorable times. Wahoo.
On a completely separate note, I hate it when people stop at my cube to "chat." Jeez, I've got my back turned to the hallway for a reason people.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
On Comparisons
I've been writing for as long as I can remember. I wrote my first short story when I was six years old, with my Crayolas. There were also some stunning illustrations... for a six year old (sarcasm.) In any case, I've written a lot of garbage throughout my years. Most of this garbage can be blamed on being a kid, and this garbage, I'm not really counting since I was in fact a child.
Of course, the teenage years came and all I could write about was unrequited love. Typical teenage girl stuff right? Well, this equated to more drivel that horrified me beyond belief. I couldn't imagine anyone ever reading that stuff, especially my intended.
About the time I was getting ready to graduate high school, I thought to myself, gosh, I really want to be writer. I want to write books, share my stories with people, entertain them, make them laugh, make them feel. So, I started writing novellas thinking they'd eventually go somewhere, maybe turn into an actual novel. Of course, being judgemental of my work (as pretty much all writers are) I trashed everything I ever wrote, casting it off as rubbish.
As I entered my early twenties I realized, I really wanted to have an actual book out there, but where was my story? I couldn't keep writing about lost love, there's a certain market for that and I didn't want to be pegged. In my mid-twenties, a story arrived, I wrote it, and published it myself.
It was hard work, but not impossible, and I learned a lot of cool things about publishing. Looking back on the story I wrote however, I realize, it's written from a more immature part of me, I can see it in my writing. It's been praised by everyone that's read it (yes, everyone I know) but also, quite a few strangers, which is especially pleasing. I've achieved my goal, I've entertained people.
Now I'm working on a second novel. I can tell already that this particular book has a more mature sense of voice about it. It's coming from an older version of me. Of course, if a writer's work didn't grow and change with the writer's life, it would become boring and calculated. No one would continue to read a particular writer if they kept writing the same thing over and over again.
I'm looking forward to completing this work as I feel it will be more entertaining than my first book. I imagine it will still be a while yet before I complete this piece because well, I let my life and my laziness get in the way too much.
Of course, the teenage years came and all I could write about was unrequited love. Typical teenage girl stuff right? Well, this equated to more drivel that horrified me beyond belief. I couldn't imagine anyone ever reading that stuff, especially my intended.
About the time I was getting ready to graduate high school, I thought to myself, gosh, I really want to be writer. I want to write books, share my stories with people, entertain them, make them laugh, make them feel. So, I started writing novellas thinking they'd eventually go somewhere, maybe turn into an actual novel. Of course, being judgemental of my work (as pretty much all writers are) I trashed everything I ever wrote, casting it off as rubbish.
As I entered my early twenties I realized, I really wanted to have an actual book out there, but where was my story? I couldn't keep writing about lost love, there's a certain market for that and I didn't want to be pegged. In my mid-twenties, a story arrived, I wrote it, and published it myself.
It was hard work, but not impossible, and I learned a lot of cool things about publishing. Looking back on the story I wrote however, I realize, it's written from a more immature part of me, I can see it in my writing. It's been praised by everyone that's read it (yes, everyone I know) but also, quite a few strangers, which is especially pleasing. I've achieved my goal, I've entertained people.
Now I'm working on a second novel. I can tell already that this particular book has a more mature sense of voice about it. It's coming from an older version of me. Of course, if a writer's work didn't grow and change with the writer's life, it would become boring and calculated. No one would continue to read a particular writer if they kept writing the same thing over and over again.
I'm looking forward to completing this work as I feel it will be more entertaining than my first book. I imagine it will still be a while yet before I complete this piece because well, I let my life and my laziness get in the way too much.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
On Small Annoyances
I get irritated by the smallest things sometimes. I know I really shouldn't. I should just be concerned with myself and my own business. I shouldn't let what other people say/do bother me. (That's a lot of should/shouldn't.)
The freshest thing to bother me. Marriage/babies. If you're with someone for a long time, everyone around you asks... "So when are you getting married?" Then after you're married, they'll ask... "So when are you going to start having babies?" As if things of this nature are anyone's business. It's like asking someone, "So, did you take a shit yet today?" None of your business! The dynamics of a person's relationship with someone else should only be discussed amongst those two people. Unless of course the couple in question doesn't mind their personal space being invaded by nosey Nellies, then whatever. Or if the couple in question is open about discussing the status of their relationship with EVERYONE in the entire world. I'm not saying "couples" should keep nill about their relationship, or feelings toward their S/O, if they want to discuss things with say... close friends, hey, go for it, to each his own. I just get irritated when people think it's amusing to ask someone about when they're getting hitched or popping out a shit machine of their own.
Some people are content with just being with someone, things are working well as they are, so why change them? Some people want to get institutional and get hitched for various reasons, or just stay single, yet together for various reasons. Some people can't wait to have kids, some people are more apprehensive about it. These are all personal decisions. PERSONAL decisions that I don't think everyone and their brother should be harassing other people about.
Or maybe I'm just too conventional.
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