Lately, most of my hobbies have taken a back seat to my creative writing. I’ve been more productive than ever, and it feels really good. No, amazing. Terrific.
Of course there’s always give and take in life, so that means that my other hobbies have suffered neglect. For example, I picked up A Room of One’s Own several months ago and still haven’t finished. (It’s only 100 pages or so) The painting that I started over the summer is also unfinished. The quilt I started cutting probably won’t be picked up again until sometime in 2012. I haven’t crocheted a single item yet this fall. And of course, this poor blog has been treated like the red-headed step-child. Sorry, blog.
Is it worth it? Absolutely. I’m committed to becoming a better creative writer, and the only way to do that is to write, write, write. As much as I love talking about my own booty, right now I’d rather make up a story about someone else’s. That sounds weird. For the record, I have not written a story about anyone’s booty.
I won’t abandon blogging because I’d still like to get better at that too, but one writing focus at a time is plenty for the time being. That said, If you are interested in reading a short story, I’m looking for feed back. Let me know and I’ll send something along.