I haven’t been writing.
I’ve been reading though. More now that it’s summer and the library’s summer reading program kicked in. (Yes, summer reading program. That thing we use to do as kids we when turn in a log of books we’ve read and get to look in the prize box? They do it for adults. I can have a BOGO Chipotle coupon just for reading five books I would’ve read anyway? Yes, please!)
There are some really good books out there guys. Character growth galore and storylines that are just awesome. I read a book last night, a good chunk of it, all the way to the end and didn’t notice that it was four in the morning because I was so into it.
And I realized it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way about one of my own stories.
I feel like plots slip through my fingers like trying to grip a handful of sand too hard. The idea is there but by the time I carry it anywhere it’s just a dusting of sand on my hands. The kind you brush off without a second thought. Not exciting. You can’t build a sandcastle with dust.
But I’m not going to even get the chance to build anything if I don’t even take myself to the beach.
Are you keeping up with me? I’m sorry. I went to bed at 4 this morning.
I’m doing two things next month. Camp NaNo, with a very vague idea with the goal of to just have fun, and Dungeons and Dragons. I’m am actually really excited about that one even though I have no idea how it’s going to go but more on that later.
The fun awaits, everyone. Go build your castles.
