I Built a World

At this moment, I’m resting.  I had been going nonstop for four hours:  school, errands, cleaning, hastily wolfing down food so I wouldn’t slide onto a floor or implode with a hangry attitude.  Now I’m sitting down, and in a few minutes I’ll have to jump back up again for a very busy afternoon.

I was stewing a bit on writing tactics.  Where do I go from here?  Should I sign up for this one publishing class?  (I did.)   Should I run forward a bit with this new short story I’m working on?  (Of course.)  But I admit I’ve been really in the weeds lately.  Had I waited too long to go forward with everything?  Time and trends change.  Self doubt creeps in.

But I stopped myself and realized why I was doing this.  I built a world.  Not just one, but several worlds, in fact.  I spent late childhood and my teens and my adult life working on building all of this.  School and a career (and changing a career) kept it on the back burner (although my writing skills advanced all of those).  Yet still I worked on it, when I could.  I realize now that I could not have stopped, because writing is what I’ve known most of my life.  It helped me get through so many turbulent times.  It gave me an outlet when I had no other.  It gave me a way in which to describe the places and the people I had dreamed up.  Now I have more options, but the writing proceeds.  It is as much of me as the fingers I use to type this.  It is as much of me as the art I have also made.  It is as much of me as the foods I make for those I love.  It is, simply, me.

So while the journey rollicks a bit, still it wends onward.  I will get to where I want to be eventually, though the method may not be what I anticipated.  I built a world, and now I want to share it.

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