I am a writer. This is different then being an author, because an author gets paid. It is also different then someone who writes, because a writer has been published. Now my 2 published works consist of a Master's Thesis, which sits on a shelf in the university library collecting dust because the though of a book on a shelf in a library with my name in the spine is more important than me checking it out and not returning it so I can own a book with my name on the spine, and an article in a Nationally published scientific journal. So in other words, unless you are a geek, researcher or a close friend you won't ever stumble across my published works-yet. I threw the friend in to feel better, they don't want to read them either. Writers write, or they lament about not being able to. It has been a busy time so I have not had much time to write. With a wife, three daughters ranging from 6 months to 14 years, a 38-year-old house on the lake, 3 cars, and a job (or is that being redundant?) there isn't a lot of time left over. Especially if you are into things like regular sleep. I'm not particularly, but often need it anyway.
So this morning I woke up (late) about 5:30 and thought today's the day. It's time. The story is burning a hole in my brain. So after making coffee, reading my Bible and finding where the laptop got put before yesterday's birthday/end of school/swim/aw heck everybody's invited party, I browsed to where my current, active story is and realized that I have not worked on it since 27 Apr.
A lot has happened since that day. First off, I saved the file a half hour before straight line winds blew through downtown and made it look like a hurricane had hit. They were, after all, hurricane force winds. That afternoon was the powerful tornado storms that has knocked the State for a loop. I have replaced the dryer element, twice. I have built a deck, installed a hot tub, changed the spark plugs, EGR valve, rotors and brake pads. We had a birthday/end of school/swim/aw heck everybody's invited party. I started this blog and have made all these posts since then (not a bad activity since I started it to sharpen my writing when I don't have time to continue my story). I have again spoken at a church business meeting and probably angered some older members (not just old people, old members, there is a difference). I joined a new Sunday School Class, comforted friends whose parents have passed, and gone fishing twice. I interviewed for a new job at work wearing blue jeans and without having shaved. I have drunken a lot of coffee. And we have all grown a month older.
The only thing that hasn't progressed in the last month is the story that burns inside my head. The thing I want to work on most is the one thing that has not moved forward. Life gets in the way of life. It moves at the speed of life, and keeps us from our life. But in the end, it's only life. I've forgotten now who said it but for the Christian this life is the closest they will ever get to Hell, but for the non-Christian it is the closest they will ever get to Heaven. Life moves fast, but it is a terminal disease.
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