To Write, Perchance To Dream

Looking back on all the hope that I had going into 2013, I have to laugh at myself. There was nothing to be hopeful about. 2013 gave 2010 a run for its money in the "Shittiest Year Ever" department.

I'm not making any grand resolutions this year, no huge hopes, nothing. I want only to write--that's the only thing I'm promising myself this year. I'll write more, and with wild abandon. Not work stuff. Stuff for me. Stuff that will give me the practice and the courage and the hope to one day publish something. It's the one gift the Universe has seen fit to give me. It seems a shame to waste it.

In the first four days of this year, I've already written more non-work stuff than I did in the entire year in 2013. Or at least I think so. I created a new Wordpress blog dedicated to one particular project I plan on tackling. I've written the first chapter there. I won't be sharing it, though, until I'm sure I'm going to stick to it.

I also wrote a poem tonight. It's a bad one. I dashed it off in 10 minutes, inspired by this wonderful Tumblr blog, Hot Men Reading Poetry, in particular the audio of Tom Hiddleston reading "may i feel said he" by e.e. cummings on the last page. (Pretty sure I'm still dying over that.) But all the audios and videos contributed to it, not just that one.

Anyway, it's tentatively called "A Writer's Prayer." I'm not thrilled with the title, but whatever. It's not like I can't change it when I come up with something better. Click if you want a good laugh at my ineptitude, I suppose.

And now I leave the following, as it sums up how I feel about things more accurately and succintly than anything I could actually say myself.