I mean. It's been a minute.
Firstly, thank you to everyone who still comes back to these almost 10 year old stories and enjoys them. I have a lot of words, but little to truly show how much that means to me. Just know I love every review I get and the nineteen year old who started them would be amazed that it's still going strong. Now. To why I'm back here.
I have no idea if any of my readers still get notifications if I post, but there's a thought that has been nagging at me the last year.
What if I start writing on again?
When I finished my last project here, I was very firm that I was done. I wrote fanfiction, it was fitting to end with a rewrite, and then move on. I had every intention of sticking to that. I wanted to write my own stories, and be published. I wanted to hold a book I had written, and see it on the shelves. I thought that was what it meant to be a real writer. But life happens. I had a fulltime job, a home, a relationship, my friends. Hell, all of last year I threw a night job into the mix. Writing pushed down the list, and when an idea sparked and I tried to make it a priority…well I never got past chapter 2.
Nothing I've written in the 7 years since I stopped posting here has gripped me. The ideas just keep swirling in my head, but executing them falls short. So I rarely tried. I found other outlets for my creativity. My home became my science project, always growing and changing. My relationship ended, but I found out who I really am, and how I love it being just me. Much like the characters I wrote about back in the day, the woods nurtured me. My job turned twisted and I had to battle through that, until finally this winter I found a new place that was the last push into me being the happiest I've ever been. I'm content. And while it will always throw curveballs, I've built myself a fulfilling life. But oh, that one part of my identity. I miss it. It's not every day, but close, that I miss that part of me. I miss the ink stains on my hand, and the daydreaming over plots and suspenseful turns. I miss creating people and sharing in their up's and downs. I miss knowing something I wrote provided an escape for someone else.
And missing that is why the thought started nagging. It's not money, or a physical book and seeing it on the shelves that I need to feel like a writer. It was all of you. I started calling myself a writer when I started having readers. So maybe it's an easy way out of this writers block den I've been housed in, but I think it's something I need to try. That's where you come in.
If my original readers are still out there, or if there are new ones reading these old stories and wanting new….post a review to this and let me know. I can't guarantee a posting schedule like I used to obsessively have, hell I can't even guarantee what I'm writing. But if someone out there wants it, maybe that's all I need to write…something.
Let's find out.
~JB