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We spent the weekend at a friend’s cottage along the Northumberland Strait in Nova Scotia, just east of Rushton’s Beach if you can find it on a map. The water was warm, the beer cold, and the 30 or so friends all friendly. We smoked some huge pieces of meat, played games, talked, and just vegged out.

I thought a bit about my writing and how I want to proceed. These casual discussions told me I’m not perceived as a writer, not by my wife, not by my friends, not by anybody but people who have heard me read.

Ah, a key piece of the puzzle. People need to read my writing. It’s a scary thought, though. I’ve been pounding the idea into my head for the last couple of years that I can write, that I do write, and that I should write, write for fame, and fortune, write to make a difference, write to write. I don’t know if I believe these purposes or not, but the last one sticks out whenever I think about it. It pops its head up like a previously sleeping dog smelling a plate of pulled pork entering a room. I need to write for the sake of writing.

Looking back over the year since last November I think I can say I have written. I expanded my current story from 52k words to a current 105k, and this effort involved ditching completely probably 50k words. I’ve written a lot of poetry too. I can’t honestly call it poetry, though. It’s more like prose-poetry, to me. Still, it’s creative. I’ve spent the majority of my writing time editing: massaging my prose. It’s hard work. It is creative work too, but it’s harder. It’s different.

A meal alone is different than a meal with friends. The extra food I took home will taste good, but it won’t taste as good as it did straight out of the oven and shared with 30 huggable people. And Ross, nubility does not apply.

By the way, my blood sugars stayed perfect, and I didn’t get drunk enough to fall down.

Writing is similar. There’s creatively juicy writing and businessy polished writing. I feel my creative juices flowing right now. I have an urge to write

The problem is I have story already to begin for NaNoWriMo. If I dig into it now, I’ll need a new story for November. It may also put my current editing on the shelve. I don’t like that idea; I may never get it off. But then again, maybe this creative outlet will help me with my editing. Maybe It will satisfy the urges enough for me to be able to sit down with my business focus.

Steven King does it, so why can’t I? The King works on two projects: one during the day and one in the evening. One is a new write and the other an edit. He can pay for his time, though. I can’t. I need to be a little more frugal.

Maybe I can try writing new stories one or two nights a week. Maybe that will be enough to whet the appetite and motivate me to edit more. Feed creativity with creativity.

Heck, what’s the worry? I’m a  writer. It’s only writing.

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