There will probably never come a time when I say/write “it’s been a while” when my angsty teenage inner self fails to pop up to say “Remember high school and how much you listend to that Staind song?!?” and then have the song stuck in my head for a minium of three days. Such is life.
Since the last time I checked in, I moved to eastern Tennessee for a little over five months, hated it, and came back to Michigan. I should put something poetic here about roots and wings or the like. The area wasn’t for me, the job market wasn’t for me, and the people weren’t for me. Plus I missed my dog. But I gave it a shot so that counts for something I guess. Since I’ve been back in the Land of the Hand, I enrolled in some classes at the local college to keep busy between job hunting sessions. It feels good to feel like I’m doing something productive with my time, I guess, instead of wasting away.
I still haven’t finished my first book. I’ve been avoiding it like I’d avoid the bitchy girl from high school if I saw her at Target. I have done little to no writing. I’ve been bad. I realized last night that I think I’m putting it off because if I do finish it then I actually have to *do* something with it. Do I self publish? Do I go through the hell that is querying? Do I bury it out in the woods never to see the light of day again? There’s a certain fear of taking the next step once my manuscript is finished and revised. Putting myself out there has never been my strong suit. Maybe it’s time to break through some of these issues and push forward.
What about y’all? Any fear of finishing your current work-in-progress? Have you felt this way before?