I'm always looking for the Next Big Thing. I'm sure that Alfred is really tired of trying to keep up with my hobbies, because just when he's got one figured out and bought me a related Christmas present, I've already decided that I'm done with that and oooooh, that other thing looks exciting!
In just the last year I've toyed with archery, yoga, knitting, and coding.
(Anybody want a recurve bow and some arrows?)
One thing I always come back to is writing. At least, in my head.
One day I'll write a book. I just have to have some mental head space. I just need my kid to be a little bit more independent. I just need inspiration. I just need a physical space that's just for me. I wish we lived closer to a coffee shop. I just have to lose 10 lbs because then I can use the time I exercise for writing instead.
That last one is super logical, huh?
These are the things we tell ourselves, while other people are telling us, hey, just write. Start writing. Writers write.
For some reason today was the day I decided I was just going to do that. In July, I will write a short book. Ish. Type of thing.
I'm not going to question it, I'm just going to run with it.
I still didn't have any inspiration so I just wrote down all the things I like to read stories about on scraps of paper, and chucked them into a hat. Shamefully, what I most like to read is YA fiction so there were a lot of... interesting... things in there. I asked my 7 year old to pull out three of the scraps.
Holy shit, he fucking sucks at this. I mean, there were werewolves and pirates and Ancient Egypt in there.
Well, whatever. That's what I'll write about. I guess. And in the interest of being accountable, I'll post it in all it's awful glory here. Aren't you excited?
Yeah, I have a stomach full of dread too.