This has always been a neat topic, at least to me.

I don’t ‘pride’ myself in a lot of things. Just a few. And one of them is that I never seem to be out of ideas. No matter my mood I can find some play at an idea for stories. I stress, yes, and it can get difficult, but I like to think that I excel with my imagination.

I like to imagine–I know I’m terrible–that writing has become a way for me to express my sometimes overwhelming thoughts. Sometimes I can spit out some decent stuff. Sometimes I can spit out a rough book. And sometimes I can imagine enough things in a proper order to create posts for a blog.

I like to think that my imagination is unlimited. I really do. Because I love coming up with story ideas. I love the struggle and the fight to create a poem, even though I don’t find it my best. I especially love doing the short stories, overall more than I thought.

I’ve worked on a novel for a majority of my life. It’s always ‘my thing’ when talking to people.
I’ve been working on a book since I was seven.
I’m working on a book.
It’s about…oh, god, it’s a lot.
It’s called insert clever title.
One day with that damn thing.

One day.

It might be good. It might not be. I hope it is. At this point, I just want to finish it…

Kind of. I love working on it. But really I just love working on something. I’ve just been working on one thing for a long time. So, of course, it’s going to be long. Good thing is I’ll keep moving as long as my imagination holds out.

And I definitely believe that’s not fizzling out anytime soon.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to write a story about a sentient record, signed by the Beatles, decides to change history.