There's been some years where, here on the blog, come January, I've talked about some grand plan I had for the new year.
I think the last one was the year I was going to finish all the books I've started and not gotten through. Do you know how many I read off my list? Not a one.
And one year I gathered a posse of other creative types and was going to check in on them all year, to make sure they were accomplishing what they wanted to get accomplished and give them encouragement along the way.
Which lasted til March.
I have a confession to make: I've lost my way as a writer.
It's been a struggle to write for several years now. I struggle a lot with motivation -- I set goals and miss them, I bribe myself, I procrastinate, I feel guilty, I beat myself up.
All of those things are normal for many writers, but if it's this much work to make myself write...something's very wrong. And when I do write, I struggle with editing and go around in circles and brainstorm fruitlessly until I beat the story into the ground.
It's not fun anymore.
A free flash fiction piece by Siri Paulson
There's a new fad in town. It took me ages to win over the 'rents. Too much upkeep, they said, even though I promised to take care of it. Too big, too expensive, too dangerous, the aquarium wouldn't match the rec room decor. But I knew they'd give in. Can't be those parents.
My dad still doesn't like the new pet. Too creepy, as if it's watching him as it swims. But I like that. I watch it and it watches me back as it circles the tank, lifting to breathe, the water closing again over its domed head and webbed feet. It's as long as I am, and the aquarium takes up half of the rec room, where the VR used to be, but this is better than VR. Not human but not just fish anymore, smart but not really intelligent – the ads promised you could teach them tricks, showed them moving in tandem in different labs. But I don't want mine to be tamed.