For almost the past two years writing has seemed foreign to me, even though I haven’t stopped. It’s not as if the craft and the art of writing had become this mysterious exercise, (of which I had no idea what to do with) or that the words themselves had transformed into an unknown language which I could not decipher. No it felt more-alike I had lost my passion, that spark, that enthusiasm, that lust to create and mold a story together. I’m sure that this doesn’t come as much of a shock to you; because you’ve probably noticed it in my writing itself; for me it felt like a blurrish blab of crap. Now don’t get me wrong there were probably some interesting ideas floating around it those pieces of writing, but I felt no connection to the pieces. Perhaps that’s why writing had become so foreign to me.
I know this is somewhat of a sin for a writer to say and follow through with this action, but I think that I would like to keep all of my writing energy on writing Jenny Mac. I know that I am only just beginning to let these ideas flow again, but there is this certain electrifying energy that I feel when I’m writing down ideas for Jenny Mac, and that feeling has undeniably gone beyond my writing. I feel as if I am being pulled from this sort of dark depressive time period in my life and all of these positive things have been happening ever since. I can say with utmost certainty that I’m in a better place than I was two years ago, hell I’m in a better place than I was five years ago when I moved out to Mass. I feel that now is the time to be a writer, now is the time to let the ideas flow freely, now is the time to write in almost an obsessive manner. I feel it in every fiber of my being that this is my time.
Not to sound all about myself, but I’ve never felt this kind of unstoppable energy before and I don’t know how else to describe other than incredible!