When it comes to writing, what is it?

What is it that makes me stare at a started document for all of five minutes, then open a video game but, and this is the important part, not close the document, just in case I get some sort of random inspiration gleaned from taking over another continent in Civ IV?

If it's minimized and not closed, then I'm not done writing for the day. If I'm not done writing for the day, it's not a waste.

And what is it some days a page, two pages, or five, just comes and sits there, black on white, asking 'why is this so bloody hard the rest of the time?'

While my laptop getting stolen in Brooklyn last August was a traumatic experience, in that I lost so many photos and things I'd been working on, I'm beginning to think it wasn't necessarily so bad. Now, that's not to say I'd like another occurrence, because it really does suck, but because of it, I've had to scramble. Scramble to find what I have saved elsewhere, what I can still remember or work on or re-write.

And it's depressing, in a good way. See, I have tonnes of stuff. But time has become misleading, and what seemed a few years ago is actually 2008. That's not a few, as least as far as a human lifespan is concerned. But rooting around my scattered hard drives, reading those accusing 'created in 2008' timestamps, I can't think of where the time has gone. Is it because I lost inters in writing? Is it because other things took priority?

No clue. All I know is this entry is part of an attempt to kick my own arse into gear (again; I'm sure I've written more than one entry attempting same). This entry is reminding me that I have a bunch of short stories that are too short, characters that deserve to finish their narratives, and fewer years to do it in than I did in 2008.

But maybe the intervening years were necessary. Looking back on some of it, the intent is good but the writing needs work. The ideas are there, the.... the.... y'know, the thing that means you use words lots.... isn't. I'm a different person now than I was then, and obviously that guy from several years ago just wasn't committed enough to follow through.

Am I now? We'll see. I gave commitment a go. Was pretty okay with it. I committed to leaving everything behind for a year and sailing round the world, and that's still on the books. So maybe I'm over the fear of commitment, and I can finally commit to the Godwinsons, Mike and Sarah, the villagers of Hamlin, Saelle and Jenner and Bryan and that bottle of Louis and Sophie and Inspector Perratt and Brokes and his team. And myself.

That said, this is it for this entry. It'll be posted, and I'll open up a half-finished document and stare at the screen and slowly creep through one of the above characters life, letter by letter and word by word and page by page, until I have nothing more to say and they can be introduced to the world.