17 January 2014

A comma by any other name

Surprisingly, at least to me, I wrote very little last year. Compared to other years, that is. I didn't write a single original unique nonfiction article or essay. Not a single fiction story, unless you count that one in March about the phoenix that I never actually finished. I came up with a few interesting ideas for my novel project but didn't do a thing with it.

But that's okay. I was working on other things. I switched jobs and moved states. I actually moved twice. I made a few new friends. I settled in at my new job. I got a few previously-written pieces published.

In fact, just the other day, my essay on the Oxford Comma was published by Tin House. It's called The Comma That Launched A Thousand Ships, and I might write more about that whole process later.

Their Announcement

My Reaction

Inspired by Allie Brosh
It's green because it's supposed to be me.

I have another previously-written nonfiction article to complete a revision of for another publication (I haven't forgotten you!) and then I'll have pretty much parceled off most of my thesis. Strange. It's only been a little over a year. And now I need to write something new. I've fallen out of the habit, somehow, and I feel like perhaps I am ready to get back to it.

I also really miss writing fiction. I haven't had the headspace for it this past year, not really, and I think perhaps I'd like to make space for it again. An author I admire who I sometimes communicate with told me something that I thought was really nice. She told me that, basically, it's okay to not write a novel now, that I have a lot on my plate and that life is crazy.

And I thought about whether maybe I mightn't be happier if I wasn't sort of either compulsively writing or compulsively feeling guilty about NOT writing. That maybe I could just...be normal? What is it that people who don't have some kind of compulsive hobby do with their time? Enjoy...things? There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

I don't really think I could just not be a writer, though. Especially since I have this sort of craving for it. But maybe I could stop feeling guilty about not doing it when I'm doing other things. It's all a headgame, my friends. All a headgame.