No Particular Hour, No Given Day

“I don’t know when I realized the dream was over
there was no particular hour, no given day
You know, it didn’t go down in flame
There was no final scene, no frozen frame…
I just watched it slowly fade away.”

-‘Waiting In The Weeds’/ Eagles


I made a new connection on Twitter a few weeks ago. Another writer, of course. In the midst of the conversation we were having via DM, he stated he had checked out my blog here. He asked if I was writing. I said ‘no’, that I was busy with other things. Then, he said something that stunned me into sitting back in my chair.  

It’s like you just burned out, or something.”

To say that I am uninspired would be an understatement. Oh, I think about writing. But I got nothing. I haven’t written poetry in months. Honestly, I haven’t wanted to even think about it. I have pushed it away, deliberately. I have not replaced it with anything other than day-to-day work…and I’m quite alright about it. When asked I have told people that I will not be doing another book. Well, because you have to write to have another book to publish and I have no desire to pen anything creative. (This post does not count.)

There are a few people I know that have traditional publishing contracts. They are going to make serious money this summer. Happy for them, truly, but it is never what I wanted for myself. I have what I need. I’m not interested in book signings and fanfare and applause when I walk into the room. I’m happy to sit back and let other people enjoy their ride. One author in particular whom I am close to might be reading this and getting pissed off at me for backing out of writing altogether. He is going to be a millionaire author soon and departing for his own private island somewhere. Although I wish him the best, it’s simply not my ride. I do have a ticket for a seat on the bus, but I’m not really one of his groupies, so I wouldn’t fit in anyway.   

Are things perfect? No. Things are never perfect and never going to be. Even perfection is flawed. I hate living in Chicago and I have exhausted myself looking for the best opportunity that will carry me out of here.  The day will come and I will get my chance to run away, too. But it doesn’t look like it will be any time soon so I am staying in the flow of creativity in other ways. I have work I enjoy and that is why I am happy. I know that wherever I go, I can take my work with me. 

Burned out doesn’t even begin to describe it. Writing is over for now. My focus is on helping other people achieve their dreams. I accomplished what I set out to do regarding publishing my books three years ago, and so I continue my break.

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