So I had this book all planned out. I even started writing it. But somewhere along the line… well, it’s on hold for now. But I am writing, just not what I’d planned to. It bothers me while at the same time it doesn’t. This is not the first time it’s happened; it will likely not be the last. Writing is like that for me. I want to go one way, but there are stories that want to be told that pull me in another direction. It makes me feel like I have writing ADD or something. But I think it’s just part of my process. I write through an idea before I know if it’s working or not. And then new ideas take its place.
The reason I choose, for now, to write short stories is that eventually I lose the feel for it. I chalk it up to simply not having the right idea for a novel yet, one that really excites me, but perhaps it’s just what I am meant to do: Tell small stories. Taking a glimpse into a life can sometimes be far more interesting than knowing all you need to know by the time you close the back cover. In short stories, questions remain. Outcomes are uncertain. Just like life. Short stories are the now. Interesting, no? I just thought of that. Short stories as some type of Zen meditation? That might be pushing it.
Okay, I’ve pivoted in another direction. I’m not sure where it will take me, but I have to trust the journey. That’s what I am in this for.