I just finished Stephen King's On Writing, which I started yesterday during a break in parents' night and read compulsively all day today. I was initially drawn in by the biographical detail (I've spent more time reading his stories than any other writer; you bet I'm curious about the mind behind it all), but was ultimately sucked in by the discussion on writing mechanics. Sometimes I forget that I used to want to be a fiction writer, because I decided a very long time ago that I wasn't good enough.

I'm thinking now that I was full of crap, or at least mediocrity. (Mediocre crap?) I think I was frightened off by the long, mapless journey to publishing and the droves of acquaintances who claimed that road trip for themselves. With the perspective of a suffering English teacher, it seems silly now: St. Jack has gone into publishing, reviewing and editing rather than writing (full-time), and as far as I know, Poet is still writing first drafts of his various novels. I started a book a couple of years back, but then I did the Stupid Thing: I showed it around like a prize pie, got crushed, and lost the wind. (It was an extremely thinly-disguised memoir about pregnancy; I don't seem to be able to find the confidence to use a subject other than myself. Maybe I need to use that muscle instead of letting it atrophy. Just a thought.)

I guess my biggest problem (besides the mediocrity, and the love of adverbs), is that I don't give myself time for reading and writing. I'm allowing myself to burn out on writing by scribbling comments in margins; at the same time I'm burning out on reading because I can't knit and read. And there is the small matter of my 2-year-old, my husband and my chaotic living arrangements. 'S hard to justify crawling in the writing hole for an hour when the same toys have been on the floor for two weeks and the mail is piling up, unopened.

Still, this seems to be what I need to make my life go round. If I'm to beat off the flying monkeys of anxiety (and the quicksand of depression) I need to take more of an interest in my life. Interest = funny stories = noticing things = writing down = telling my own stories in an interesting way. So yeah.

I'm back, baby.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 10/28/2005 07:29:00 p.m.