I hate putting titles on these things.
I got an email this morning with a jab to get back at this. I have several excuses I could use here, but I think I'll just leave anyone/everyone wondering and get into other things.
I'm thinking that the new title of the overall blog should be Adam Not Writing. Here's my explanation (warning, this may sound overly dramatic, but this is humorous, just bear with me): My current problem with writing partially stems from lack of devoted time, but also from some kind of ailment in my fingers.
Lack of devoted time means that every time I'm sitting down to do anything I get interrupted repeatedly. There have been times that I've had 30 minutes or so to myself, but I can't count on it... I can already hear some of you out there: "Get used to it!" "Welcome to my world." "You think that's bad?" And all I have to say is: can it, this isn't a pissing contest. I have and probably will again write with distractions and deal with the juggling act that is life for everyone. Kids, animals, parents, friends, work, school, or whatever have and always will occupy time in our lives. Everyone has distractions, mine have just gotten the better of me for the last two months or so. I'm not asking for sympathy, merely citing this as a contributing reason for my inactivity.
Secondly, my creativity has seemed to stop at my fingers. My mind is still going, taking in ordinary things from the world around me and twisting them into the demented, sick and (hopefully a little) scary things that I put on the page. This has created a kind of blockage in my brain. Every time I have attempted to sit down and write, my fingers simply will not assist in the defacing of paper.
The blockage has created a weird situation. I know that I'm sleep deprived and distracted in others ways as well. However, I think I'm learning just how poisonous a story can be if it isn't allowed to spill onto the page. I think I'm learning just how much I don't want to write, I have to write. I think I'm beginning to understand why the people who can't write anything but appallingly unskilled poetry and stories filled with adverbs and wooden characters and cliches continue to write.
So this poison has built up, and I'm starting to wonder what kind of an overall effect it's having on my senses... Hopefully I'll get some of it out soon.
