The season of Spook is upon us, and naturally, I couldn't be happier.
I also couldn't be busier.
I'm knee-deep in my second-to-last semester at the University of Cincinnati, finalizing my graduate school applications, working full-time as a Lead for a medical alert monitoring company, and snatching every moment in-between to write. STOLEN MOMENTS - a poetry chapbook or collection, I haven't decided yet - entirely encompasses this experience. It may turn into a hybrid form as I continue, but I haven't decided yet.
I've found direction is often directionless in writing, anyway.
Despite STOLEN MOMENTS, I've been itching to write fiction. Between editing Danielle Koste's upcoming novel, PULSE, almost two months ago and reading my fellow friends' works-in-progresses, this itch is mosquito-bite unbearable. The non-traditional, dystopian-fantasy trilogy of mine has been put on hold so I can focus on my academics and graduate applications, and I am steadily submitting my YA mainstream novel, FINE, but it is not enough.
I want to pour hours into a blank page, spinning the stories screaming in my head. I want to explore new, innovative forms, much like the ones I am studying. Some, like scriptwriting, take more research. Take more time. The craving won't go away, though. It just growls in my stomach, louder and louder and louder, until I'm writing a blog post. This blog post.
It occurs to me, now, how many writers talk about writing more than actually writing, and how, now, I am aware that I am doing the same as we speak, or rather, as I write and you eventually read.
So, once I've completed my graduate application, I'll swap those hours for my fiction pursuits. I still want to publish a novel before graduate school, and if that's going to happen, it's time to find more time.
What a beautiful conundrum.