I need to wake up…

A part of me is too tired to do anything creative. There are things I need to do (day job, projects to keep our home up and running, family stuff) and then there are the things I want to do. Writing is definitely a thing I want to do, but it feels like I am dreaming and can’t wake up to actually write anything worth the time. As you all noticed, I even missed my last newsletter, and I am sorry for that, because you deserve some continuity for finding it in your heart to read them. I let you down; I let myself down, and I apologize. But I won’t say “Never again!” because if another summer like this comes around, I guess I might miss another installment.

It’s easier to talk about the words I did not write than to actually write a story right now. I know I have to change that, but maybe September has to end so I can find some energy again for writing. To wake up and bring a story to life. We will see.

Meanwhile, I will bore you with a short status on what I didn’t work on, and an old story of mine, and probably some rambling about how life is going right now - exciting! 😆 Let’s get to it, shall we?

Projects

Short story collection(s)

Dear reader, how can I break it to you? All my projects stalled over the summer. And I may actually not start with the short story collection as I had planned to, but probably try to have a novella as an e-book first. But the plans for this are still brewing in my head. That does not mean this project is dead, just… shelved?

Develop new writing routines

We are on the way back out through hell with this, stay tuned for all the lamenting and a slight stench of sulfur while we wander the planes of torment together.

Rewriting my novel

To say I didn’t waste a thought on that would be an utter lie, but did any of those thoughts make it onto paper or, respectively, into a document?

Well, no. Not at all. My mind is stirring that special idea stew all the time, but I couldn’t point out any real progress if my life depended on it.

I feel like an utter failure at this point. If it wasn’t for other writers who admitted to the same problems at some point in their lives. So… in this special hell I am in good company, yes? Yes??

A blink from the past

I wrote this story in the darkest days of the year, and it is very dark. But I still think it is one of my better story ideas, and although it does not really fit into one of my narrative universes, I might visit this idea again in the future. I have to issue a content warning though; it contains some gruesome violence and death. If you enjoy the read nonetheless, let me know. 😊

The Bonewanderer

Artwork for the Bonewanderer done by yours truly. I know I am not good at drawing/painting. Doesn’t keep me from trying. 🙃

Fizz & Bang

There are things I love to do and haven’t done in a long time. Probably I am not alone with that; it’s most certainly not a problem only I have. I could imagine all of us missing doing something we once did regularly and which was fun and brought joy.

So, how to get back to that? How to bypass the hurdles our lives have built that keep us from doing those things? Sometimes it’s not only hurdles our lives build, but our bodies won’t comply anymore with the things we loved, like playing basketball for example. I loved throwing some hoops, but with my injured knee and the gained weight, three days of painful walking are simply not a price I am willing to pay for an hour of basketball.

But there are things that don’t come with a price tag of bodily pain. Their price is simply time. Writing poetry, for example. Half a lifetime ago, I happily (or, oftentimes in torment) stitched words together to express my feelings, my thoughts, and wail in rhymes and verses about the injustice of the world. Little did teenage me know that those injustices I experienced were motes of dust compared to the falling rocks crushing on others around the world. But aside from the cringe memories, there is still beauty in a poem, and joy in creating one that vibes with your feelings. It is like carving a bow out of a piece of wood, making it bend and throw arrows by whittling away and laying bare the hidden beauty and strength of the wood.

I don’t take the time to do both of those things as often as I should. I have a feeling I should, though, for both those things brought me joy and peace. And please don’t anybody tell me we all don’t lack a bit of peace. Because we do. Even if the ripples in our ponds do not match the crashing waves others do experience right now.

Take a breath. Do something you enjoy. Because, you know…

It’s wild out there, be excellent to each other.

Best regards,

Morris

P.S.: Would love to read your opinion/feedback/what you want to know more about? You can answer to this e-mail. Thx & bye!