Writing as a rucksack

A new beginning.

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The clean expanse of blog lays before me, unspoilt and ready to bear upon it the stain of my words…

That’s slightly more ominous than I intended.

A new blog: why?

It is time to put my eggs in one basket. My creative interests were shocked from lethargy a few years ago and have gone through a productive period since then. I like to think of it ‘as all the work I should have been doing at University instead of playing World of Warcraft’. It started as a heady rush of sculpting, sloshed around my ankles for a while as an adventure in paint and over the last year has had me diligently hammering away at a keyboard on an, albeit, very messy but none the less complete novel.

Now the kicker; the reason for the eggs needing to be placed in one solid, trustworthy receptacle is the fact that unfortunately I am not just leaving University. I am in fact 31 going on married with more responsibility on the horizon. My free time has become like the scarcest of elixirs to be savoured and used very, very wisely.

I have laboured for a while under the misguided conception that I could do all three but ultimately that weight was dragging me down. And so with a heavy heart, I say farewell.

Sculpting it was you that showed me the way. You taught me discipline and self belief. You were the first step and shall never be forgotten. As for you painting, you cheeky rascal, you were an unexpected surprise but with adventures and lessons all of your own. (I’m sure I’ll visit you both now and again when time allows).

That just leaves you and I. You were there before, you were in fact there all along. I wrote a blog once about my challenges with sculpting where I often used a metaphor that learning to sculpt was like climbing a mountain. What do you need when mountaineering I ask you? A rucksack.

You writing, are my rucksack.

This blog shall be about that. I will use it for excerpts of what I’m working on, maybe entire short stories and general ramblings on my attempts at the craft of making them words work proper and say things about stuff.

 

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I am wearing a rucksack in this photograph. So are some other people I know.