Gearing Up for Production

I am currently gearing up to begin writing on the new project, and it feels good, but I’m filled with trepidation. The first four months of the year are the worst at my work. It’s constant overtime, constant working, tired nights, endless days, and each year brings a thread of exhausted rebellion and a weak promise that never again will I put myself through this torture.

Yet here I am, preparing to not only repeat this torture, but to tack on another project — a short story hopefully for an anthology. Even if I finish this project early (with it being a max of about 30 pages, this is entirely possible), I don’t plan to stop. This feeling of being about to begin is electric, fulfilling, and much missed. As I have said before, I plan to continue writing after, waging a fierce fight against this cowardice I mentioned last time (and I am finding, much to my horror and dismay, that this is a battle that I need to fight on several fronts, not just writing). This is a tough decision, because January is ghastly, as is every month until after tax season in mid April.

I did this last year. My short story The Snow Queen was included in the second Torqued Tales anthology, and though I made nearly nothing from it, it was still very fun to do. This new project is also for an anthology, and it has a lot of people excited and gearing for it. That’s not why I want to go for it, but because it’s right up my alley and may even help shed some light on current personal situations I feel myself in.

More than all that, though, I think it could even be something so dramatic as life-affirming. It’s about reviving something in me that I thought potentially marked by cowardice which would take an eternity to grow out of. It’s maddening to see what you can do, yet never be able to get off your ass and make it happen. (This happens with writing, overcoming my shyness and talking to the boy I have a crush on, updating my resume, going on vacation, all because they mean change and taking myself out of my comfort zone.)

So, this fragile state I’m in is about assembling the story parts and putting them together, filling in the blanks, and adhering the two disparate halves of the story into a cohesive whole. Yet I’m allowing it to become more, to mean more, and to spur me onward with the other things in my life which could use some shaking up.

And if I have to do it during the busiest season of the year, well, that’s when I will do it. I have two choices. One, to continue to lament about all the things I wish I was doing and who I wish I was doing them with, all while watching life pass me by so that at the end of it I think of all I could have done if I had battled my fear and laziness a bit more. Or two, to make the changes, to take the risks, to work and work and work until I have nothing left to say other than that I did all I could. And if I succeed, great. Wonderful motivator. If not, then I can know what to do the next time, what I can do to better myself, to to keep struggling onward, to reshape my perceptions.

Wish me luck, I suppose. Or, more appropriately, wish me an adrenaline boost and a way to set my little ass on the road. And most of all, hope.

And success, I suppose. That works, too.

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~ by Darren Endymion on December 1, 2014.

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