Last night I did something I do many times during the week. I logged onto my computer and checked my numerous emails, face book, and all the other items that tend to keep me informed about the outside world from within. Then I scanned my recent items folder, you know the one in your start menu that shows you all the fifteen things you have been working on most recently. There were pictures I have created and changed and documents I have written both for writing pleasure and business. But there was one thing I didn’t see, it was the very thing I never thought I would lose sight of. My ever-growing novel……
Sitting here looking at this screen of the informed I attempted to retrace my memory banks in hopes of knowing exactly where this file was, as I had moved it only a few months ago. I had forgotten, for a split second my memory went blank and that document was lost. I have always looked of an ever-growing piece of writing whether it be story or thesis, to be a child nurtured and fed and given the strength to survive, never forgotten nor ever neglected.
I feel much like a bad parent, and I wonder where the passion has gone, there are so many distractions in life but that is an excuse that so many make. The truth is this story has fallen into neglect because I did not take the time to give it the attention it needed. That realization makes me question my passion, it makes me wonder and contemplate maybe this was not the book for me to write first, or maybe it is just simply not good enough. With my own standards more than societies.
Or Maybe this is just another one of those hurdles that writers go through when they hit a lull in their work. Maybe when I find that place of complete solitude my bottomless pool of inspiration can truly be unleashed. For now I think it is time for me to go and make up for lost time, with a child I was just starting to get to know..
