A collection of rambling posts about gaming, running, and politics. (and, in 2009, photography.)

Monday, April 7, 2008


I sat down yesterday and began to write.

I ended up staying up way too late and hammering out just over six thousand words.

I've long fancied writing, but haven't had the motivation to start, nor the story to write.

I'd kicked around a seed for a story, and so I just jumped into it. And its rather exciting. But it also fills me with anxiety and nervousness. What if I'm a terrible writer? Will my friends be able to tell me? Will I be able to listen? What if I attack it with gusto for a week, and then forget that it even exists?

It seems to me that writing is much like cooking. Everyone has their own slightly unique style to it. Some people are great cooks, some people are terrible cooks, and some people are just okay cooks.

Other random anecdote: A book has to rely on both story and style, I think. If either is lacking, then it doesn't matter how good the other is.

Anyway, this is the sound of me fretting.

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