So that’s how it feels to abandon writing
Today I stumbled across the blog of another person I deeply love and respect, and was smacked in the face with the brick-like fact that I had not written anything for too long. So I figure it’s time for an update.
Logging into my website just now, I swatted away the cobwebs that had collected. A grim expression is currently on my face. The realization hit me: I’d become one of THOSE. One of those blogs you find on the net – accidentally. The ones that scream abandonment. The ones where the wind echoes through the hypertext markup text like the howling of an old warehouse, moaning and complaining to anyone who will hear – mourning it’s loss of usefulness.
Visitors might, if they are of the thoughtful type, wonder briefly at the human being that exists behind the old words – wondering if perhaps they – I – exist still? No matter. After a few sad and slightly bemused clicks, they escape back over to the facebook tab or email app – barely suppressing a shudder.
So if you are one of the people who enjoyed the book, let me lay it out for you. Back in 2017 when I wrote Growing Up Itchy, my freelance design work was so slow that we had to dip into our emergency fund, probably the first time that happened. Moving to the country was probably 50% to blame, and the economy the other 50%, but since I was never a personable networking-type anyhow; shindigs where one holds a tiny clear plastic cup and a micro paper plate vastly annoy me. After all I am a thirsty person and excessive tiny refills makes me look silly – like a clown on a tiny bicycle. If we’re going to get to know each other, I’d rather do it viking style. Roll out the roast beast and we’ll get on with networking over heaping plates and large, full tankards, and medieval metal implements.
I can assume the Lord simply had other plans for me – for us, as far as income goes. After all, all of my work and income was gifted to me from Him, in whatever doses He chose, through no skill or activity of my own. I wrestled through the usual human self-doubts and mental flounderings, asking close friends and loved ones – “Am I’m being punished for something?” Or, “Do I need to learn a lesson? If so, what is it?”
Turns out, storms in life simply just happen. The good news is that He is always faithful and good, to the extreme distilled meanings of those two words. Jesus walked us through it. I admit that a part of me cried out for rescuing – but that’s not part of the deal and I know it. We’d simply never grow up if someone rescued us from every hardship.
In between writing sessions, my wife and I racked our brains to answer the age old question – “how do I get money?”
Eventually, we stumbled onto something creative, and now, two (three?) years later, It’s starting to look like this venture might be able to pay the bills. But I’m having to push the boulder uphill to make it happen. Free time has been more or less nonexistent, including time to write. My creative itch is being very well scratched by my homegrown business, and my mental capacity at the end of every day is only sufficient for hanging out with the kids. As I write this now, I have one eye on the clock, and realize that I’d better cut this short. I haven’t even eaten or had coffee yet and it’s 10am.
A couple of winters have slipped by now – and my plans of writing by the fire with slipped by them.
The Struggle Bus has about 14 chapters done in first draft. There’s a lot of fun stuff in there, and when I look at it I do get excited. It will be finished someday, but I cannot promise when. Making goals is always a good thing, but it’s so embarrassing when you can’t keep them.
To my dear friends, keep on encouraging me – I welcome your prompts, and it shows that you care. Thank you!