Because, sometimes you just gotta write.

(Bit of a warning: a different flavor of blog post than the usual ahead. I'm just sick of not seing anything new here for so long.)

You know what I mean? The thing is, it’s been a damn long time since I’ve felt anything close to this; the inch of dust in my blog can attest to that. Just about the entirety of my writing creativity recently has been taken up with character back stories for the various DnD, Dark Heresy, and other RPG campaigns. And believe me, it’s been a lot of fun, and more than a little enriching for ideas on actual characters to write. Invariably (though I am unsure as to whether it is how they are written or how I act them out), they are well remembered amongst the group. Or, to perhaps be closer to the truth, each of them stands out quite clearly in my mind, and a few of the more ridiculous ones in the minds of friends. Vertson, the first and the unspeaking (due to my shyness) Avenger; #4, the sociopath assassin out for the greatest good of mankind (one of the most fun to play); Michael, the empathetic ghost with a phobia of cars (no comment); Kaidhar, the big fuzzy guy with the shield and too many morals (and tragedies, I do love dem tragedies); Dario, the smooth talking degenerate (not as fun as it sounds) and his eternally pissed-off hunter, Xandric (more noir than you can shake a knuckle-duster at); and finally Yk’Syrk, the giant bug with a taste for…well…anything it can find (and anyone, but keep that on the downlow.)

But for goodness sakes, I‘ve gotten off-topic. See how easy it is for me to spend way, way too much time on these guys? And that’s even mentioning Nerezza, the NPC with more back-story than each of these guys combined. Man, that was a good night for writing. Now, I’m getting something similar, most likely because of the amount of homework I have yet to do and my less-than-useful presence in concern to the group I’m working on my senior project with. But let’s not talk about that, ‘s despressin’. No, instead, let’s talk about what any of this can mean.

Flat out, it’s what I enjoy doing. But also, I flat-out don’t have the patience for it. Draft after draft, fixing, revising…it’s just beyond me. Tell you a secret? I haven’t written a draft that wasn’t required for a paper since middle school, I kid you not. Any time a teacher even pushed us to make an outline, or brainstorm, or come up with a plan, I just basically through down a few ideas on a piece of paper, promptly lost it in my backpack, and started writing. This is not to say that my grades haven’t suffered from such habits, especially now that I’m past high school. As it stands now, I’ve just got the last big paper to write, and then every piece of writing I do after that can be my own. I think, maybe if I get to choose exactly what I write, I’ll enjoy it a lot more. But the worry still remains, the same thing I thought about when making things in sculpture class last semester: I have this preconception (or perhaps misconception is closer) that writing or creating art for money somehow erodes the quality of said art. No, quality isn’t the right word; spiritual fulfillment? Inherent worth? Bah, something closer to those two. The point being, any serious writing would probably be enjoyable until about week two, after which I start complaining and go play Wii. Am I doomed, then, to only writing character backgrounds and half-stories?