I did it
I had an idea for a story, that developed into a fake pharmaceutical company, that created a fake drug. I spent the last two weeks writing and crafting the story, web pages and graphics.
What I love most about writing is getting in the groove and making something new out of nothing. I like graphic design, too. I wish like anything, I could make original pieces of art, but I can still layout a page. I can’t even draw digitally, unless you count CAD work. I love making things and highly respect whatever others create.
I understand the blood, sweat and tears (second obscure reference, one being the post title) that goes into the act of creation. The drive to complete something can be as defining as the object itself. Today, I need to make things.
Since I quit using opiates, I am able to make things. Mostly writing, but other things too, like this barn wood shelf. I am not, by any means, the carpenter many of my other siblings are (a source of irritation with my dad). Still, working with my hands brings me almost as much joy as writing. (BTW, Hawkeye, Freefall is amazing. Highly recommend)
Since I quit using opiates, I am finally able to make things again. I don’t feel the despair of feeling like a failure. There is really nothing worse than realizing you are a junkie. I still tried to make things. Mostly with my camera, so I have that from back then, I guess.
I couldn’t really do something, because I didn’t want to do anything. Worse, I didn’t care. My camera kept me tethered to my creative juices, but, sometimes being a photographer is somewhat passive (and sometimes impersonal). I was an observer of life, not a participant.
All my life, I wanted to be a writer. Sure I can knock out a few shelves and manage your project (an art in itself). As long I am not bored, I will give anything a go. Sadly, opiates made me bored and worse, boring.
Now, I am writing. In nearly two years, I have written four novels, one novella (which will never see the light of day), and four short stories, including the one I have presented here. My output may not be Stephen King-like, however in those (almost) two years I have put over four-hundred and thirty-three thousand words on (virtual) paper.
The last two weeks have been fun. Writing is fun. Creating things is fun (and I don’t care what you create. From lesson plans to grants to code to anything really).
I guess, what I am saying is, I am no longer bored. Whether or not I am still boring is an open question, I suppose. What I really want to say is, I am a writer. I make things. I always wanted to.
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