The Dyer of Farn

[vaneramos]

For 100 Words in December I wrote a rambling, descriptive piece of fiction, for a change. This marks a year of creative writing every day. I never missed writing an entry on 100 Words and wrote 36,500 in total. In my other writing journal (which began as an attempt to resume work on the novel, but essentially turned into an all-purpose scratch pad of ideas, blurbs and private blathering), I wrote 54,546 words. In addition I have completed numerous creative writing exercises with Writers' Circle. I've posted regularly on LiveJournal but The Yarn has languished since March. In November I started writing web content for pay on The Content Authority. A few days ago I commenced a handwritten nature journal covering the winter season.

How do these projects carry me toward my bigger writing goals? On the good side, I have resumed focused work on nature writing, and begun earning a little bit of income (received a payment of about $36 via PayPal before Christmas). Writers' circle rocks! During our exercise sessions I've produced a few short pieces of fiction and poetry worthy of publication, and critique sessions have helped me revise some additional work. On the down side I haven't made any considerable progress on the novel, nor submitted a single piece of fiction or poetry for publication.

How do I feel about all this? Over the past year I have experienced occasional incidents of ecstatic creativity, and believe reducing the dosage of my anti-depressant has contributed to this. On some fronts I am excited, hopeful and invigorated. Considering my output of fiction and poetry writing I feel eternally frustrated and disappointed. Looking at it objectively, I have been productive, but never take the next step and try to get it published. Maybe if I did, the productivity would feel more real.

I haven't decided whether to continue writing on 100 Words. It is a valuable exercise in productivity, but nothing I write there feels like anything I would want to take further. It is all forced writing first thing in the morning when my brain barely feels creative. Okay, but it sets the tone. I begin every day by sitting down and telling myself, "I'm a writer." This is where it begins. It starts the inner mechanics of observation and imagination squeaking and turning. So yeah, I need to continue it. Maybe I'll take a break from following a theme, for a change.

By the way, I am home sick and alone, hence all this review, analysis and goal-setting.