I also sustained minor brain damage and whiplash earlier this month, and have had difficulty reading and tracking across a page. So, I'm sure that didn't help.
I really enjoy writing prose. Not sure I ever thought I would say that. Random thoughts about writing prose:
- I've worked in healthcare so long that I accidentally write passive sentences all the time and don't even realize I've done it.
- I don't really give a shit about ending sentences in prepositions. It doesn't really bother me. Really.
- I love sentence fragments, though!
- I enjoy getting obsessively lost in worlds I've created and entirely in my own imagination, which I think must be what hubris feels like. Sorry, invisible spaghetti god.
Oh, I made myself a new writing room! My wife calls it my mancave, which amuses me.
Anyway, I got into a fight with Abbey about how old I am tonight. It was mostly playful but she was right and I am a year older than I thought, and I may have cried a little bit on the way home. This undoubtedly brought me to the conclusion that I need to be writing more, because WHERE IS MY LIFE GOING??? IT IS JUST ESCAPING ME! Must write more. Must write more. Other people are having babies. I need to birth this trilogy, man. Or maybe it will end up just being one fuck all long ass book. Whatever! I live dangerously.
Next blog: coming sometime in the near future. Perhaps it will have content besides rambling.
Peace out, friends.