It’s tricky switching gears. I had a tough time doing it transitioning to an entrepreneur, and it’s still tricky now. The simple act of doing something completely different takes time. Sure, I did have some minor distractions for a few hours that interrupted my flow previously, but the amount of mental fortitude required was not as great as writing fiction; especially well written fiction.
I’ve been rereading and editing the first 20,000 words (two-thirds) of my new zombie novel, which helps me re-familiarize with the story, the style, and allow me to accurately write the final third. Since it has been 2 years since I first started the story, it also allows me to critically act as a copy-editor for the content. Judging by the first few pages, there was a dire need for editing, just to keep the narrator and main character separate by pronoun association. (In my defense, it was during NaNoWriMo, so no edits were allowed)
Of course, that doesn’t mean I have been 100% effective. I did spend the entire day cleaning out a garbage bag full of things I no longer need, from burned CDs to greeting cards. In that time however, I came across some older writings of mine that need to be digitized. I’ve included a poem called Fate at the bottom of this post, written before my 18th birthday, at the end of my high school senior year. It was a rough time, and I’ll just leave it at that.
On a happier note, I’ve also written a 468 word short story for Round 7 of NPR’s Three Minute Fiction series. I can’t post it here, but I do hope that over the next few months, NPR will choose it as one of the finalists and possibly even win! I sent it to a few folks, and every single one of them were hooked heavily by the short story. It was a lot of fun, and actually only took 2 hours to write (3 if you count thinking). Sometimes the story just explodes from your imagination, and putting it to words is the only justice for the story. If it doesn’t get posted by NPR as a finalist, I’ll post the story here.
As promised, here is that poem, written on April 25, 1997: Fate, in unedited angst ridden glory.
I am doomed,
I am marked,
I am scarred for life.
This must be the case, if the case may be,
That Fate has taken control of me.
She conducts me like an orchestra,
though with every beat, every rhythm,
no music is played, just the pounding of the drum.
Like a sword fight in my head,
the duel that never ends,
and if per chance it ever does,
another loss is added for this bum.
I ended the early years,
with a foot in my rear,
thought the middle would be better,
a foolish man ever still.
Finally does come the high in my life,
I have grown, things have changed!
But alas, only The Player is born.
They say lightning never strikes in the same spot twice,
I seem to prove it wrong; once, twice, thrice.
Off I’ll go!
In another life I’ll be!
With Fate dragging behind,
This worthless body.