writing, reading, life.
Over the past few months I’ve had some success with some short stories and poetry I’ve written. It’s been a really invigorating time for my writing and I can’t help but making the parallel between a quick fling and a long-term relationship.
For about 4 years I’ve been working on the same novel, slogging away, comfortable in its familiarity. It’s become cozy, dependable and we’ve both spread out around out middles like a couple who have been together for a while. Don’t get me wrong I love it, but these last few months feel like it’s been away on a business trip and I’ve just discovered a nightclub of swingers at the end of the street, (figuratively speaking of course).
Along came the novels and poetry and bam, I’ve remembered what it’s like to be in throws of a passionate stanza, or a quickie story, joyously experimental. It’s been exciting and successful and has got me wondering if I’m wasting my time with my long-term love?
I’m feeling a bit like the pilot with two families – can I balance both? Come home to roost with the novel but have the occasional weekend away with saucy story or a pumped-up poem? Should I give the novel an ultimatum perhaps? I do have a 6 month plan for the novel, I might just try my hardest with it and make up my mind then…