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Day Three Hundred and Twenty-Three: Tuesday November 19, 2013

Oh how wonderful it is to be writing prose again.  I mean, I love being on stage, and I love writing analysis, and I love creatively pursuing stories and proposals, but more and more it is becoming clear that I love to write non-fiction prose more than anything.  I may not be the best at it quite yet, but just the feeling of being completely honest and raw makes it worth it, because it is like having a diary.

I am a week behind on blog posts, and so I am hoping…no, I will be caught up by December and I intend to have a flawless month.  One post for every day to end off the year.  These kinds of things, these projects, are so satisfying near the end.  I mean it becomes tedious to think of new and inventive ways to write about things after a while, but it al comes together when the beautiful 365 is shown at the top of the list at the end of December. 

Writing  rarely ever ceases to fascinate me, to keep me full and well, rarely ceases to challenge me, and rage against me.  My creativity is hardly ever cooperative, but my thoughts run rampant with it in response to beautiful word allocations that I have been granted.  Sometimes words aren’t my thing, but my thing never ceases to be exciting, and I love it.

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