The Year of the Writer?

I have managed to miss another week’s post, and I’m as disappointed in myself as anyone.  Honestly though, I think I can blame this mishap on work, (maybe not the place itself, but certainly the hours).  I am currently working the mid shift, which is that wholly absurd time that sees the morning people leave and the night people show up.  The result is I get a short dark evening that has to end in me going to bed early if I am to get anything out of the oblong morning that is only worth while if I get up as if I was going to work at a normal time.

Alright, maybe I could use my time more wisely, get more out of my weekends, but it’s harder than you think.  Maybe, I mean you could easily be working the mid shift too, (and getting all kinds of things done all the time,) in which case I blame science.  Science and/or my illness, (the perfect scapegoats).  Ironically the time it has taken me between posts fits in exactly to what the post’s original message is.  Thinking back on it now I might have even gotten away with a postmodern, the art is the medium and the message crap if I would have played my cards right, but I’m only really good at go fish.

I am a writer.  I’m a writer in the way that I like to say I’m a writer.  I suppose I am a writer in that I’m currently writing this, (in my underwear), but I think for the most part the title is erroneous.  I can turn a pretty good phrase, but my prose isn’t exactly up to par.  I’m also really bad at the actually sitting down and putting pen to paper, (or fingers to keys).  Ideas aren’t a problem, they flow whether I want them to or not, which is more of a hindrance when trying to write one thing.  I’m the type that’s easily distracted by shiny things, so when the shiny new idea pops into my head, I want to write than one!  Then I end up with a bunch of half started projects and vague introductions.

Shiny!

I’ve told myself, (several times over), that this one, this project I’m going to finish, good intentions don’t really help me produce anything though.  The funny thing, (to me anyway), is that the more you write, the better you get.  This blog is exactly the sort of good intentions thing that I start out all gung ho on and start to peter out when I see the glint coming off the next idea.  I am trying, (and plan to keep trying), and not only with the blog.  (Speaking of the blog for a moment, my plan is to get the week’s new post out by Thursday, hoping that a more concrete deadline will help me keep at it).

I’m not the only ‘writer’ I know in this boat.  I might be the worst, but there are a lot of us.  Oddly this year, (rather than the arbitrary this year of every new year), a few of us have gotten it into our heads that it’s now or never.  We are starting a local writing group and trying out different techniques to help us produce.  Not surprisingly I am way behind on this, but I though it was interesting how many people are getting to the place where I feel I am.  I’m pushing thirty and feel that if I can’t produce finished projects on a semi regular basis soon, I’m likely to miss my opportunity.  Sure, there will always be time to write, I’m not planning on checking out any time soon, (not anymore), and plenty of great writers started their career in the twilight of their lives.  I just feel, at least for myself, that the type of things I want to write, especially the variety of things I want to write, really has to get going now.

I think back on the time I’ve been a ‘writer’ and think of all that wasted time.  My teens were the time to write garbage and my twenties was the time to polish it up.  Maybe by the time I’m forty I’ll get it together.

On that (depressing) note, since I took so long to get this post up, I think I owe you, my few but friendly readers, a book review.  To spice it up, I’m going to get that done on Friday so there’ll be a reason to stop back this weekend.  And don’t forget to expect my posts more regularly and on Thursdays, that’s my plan at least.