I’ve been writing fiction a bit this morning, fiction of my own.
I’ve put up with writing for other people on and off for a while now, and even sought it out on occasion, I forgot how much joy I could get just from writing something I love, something I devised.
So it came as a relief to me that I felt so good about the little bit of fiction I wrote for myself this morning. Perhaps the joy I couldn’t get from ghost-writing has returned to me because I really got involved with some of the stuff I didn’t like in the freelance this time. A refreshing breeze of personal joy is just what the doctor ordered.
Its just a shame I won’t get much more done today with all likelihood. I’ve got a lot of stuff to work out for tomorrow and Sunday in the form of roleplaying games I set up to run, and parties to attend both online and offline.
But I have to say it. I’m relieved I didn’t return to my own writing to find it stale and stagnant. That has happened before, and its a killer for a book. But those are stories for some other day.
Have a fine Friday everyone!