when i burned the last decade, i made resolutions for this new one. it was a short list, but a bitchin' list. and i'm me, so i've no doubt i'll accomplish everything on the list (especially since the procrastinator in me has ten years to get through the damn thing), but one of them is to be writing full time by 2020.
i'm half way through a trilogy, a work of fiction set in ancient egypt, that still needs half this new decade's worth of work. and it's not just that i want to write novels, but i also want to be paid for more serious political analysis, some snark, a bit of bite, something more serious than boy meets girl, girl thinks boy is a fucktard, girl comes around, they fall in love, have lotsa sex, and live happily ever after (or die tragically, as is probably more my style).
but there's this one project i want to be the one that really kicks off my career. and it requires me to revisit my recent past. an easy task for a gal who has the details of every year of her life in about 100,000 words. in theory anyway.
going through it all, reading the words, listening to the soundtracks that defined that era for me, feeling all of those things again is surprisingly painful. so much so that i'm not sure how i ever survived.
or if i can survive reliving it for the sake of a kickstart...
~k
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