Turnings

The secret turnings of my mind are strange things to see in action.  I say this merely because I feel compelled by some strange, secret, dark, florid part of my heart to provide an explanation for myself.  I have posted no stories here in what feels like a mortal age.  I have given you none of the updates I promised, none of my secret whispers, no thoughts, no ideas, no inklings of feelings or passions or ideals or events.  This is because I hit a stumbling block.  No words I wrote were of any quality worth sharing.  I struggled with it, feeling guilty and mildly depressed.  I wondered if the Gods had given me a gift or a curse in my ability to write, in my way with words.  I wondered if I would forever be cursed to write only a little at a time, if my pool of inspiration was shallow.  Two things happened to change my view on this.
The first is that my lovely lady love shook me out of my depression.  She taught me that all things have their time and their season, and if I couldn't write I shouldn't bother my self with it.  I should do other things, make music, read, exercise.  I shouldn't even think about my stories.  To her goes a resounding thank you.  I will never, ever be able to thank her enough, for this and a thousand other things.  Even if I should grow to be the best writer of my generation, able to spin tales beautiful enough to make the mountains weep, I will never find the words to tell her how much I love her, or how much she means to me, or how wonderful she is, or how much she has helped me, or how grateful I am.  And that, in and of it's self, is a very good thing.
The second is that I found something quite wonderful.  A blog post, from one of my favorite writers.  Neil Gaiman in fact.  The post said, quite simply and wonderfully, that I do not write for anyone but myself.  My time spent writing is my time, and my stories are mine, and if it takes me a month to write a short story, so be it.  If that is not pleasing to some, they can sod off.  I cannot, quite frankly, spend all my time writing, nor should I. If I need to take some time off that is an understandable and necessary thing, and the whole world will have to accept it.  Thank you Neil.  I know you more than likely will never read this, but the gratitude is there all the same.  You may have saved my writing and my life with that blog post.  And thank you Pat Rothfuss, for having a blog that led me to that post.
So, let's get down to business eh?  It's time for me to finish some stories that have been chaffing at their reins.  I do not know when they will be finished, but it should be relatively soon.  I thank you all for your patience, and your thoughtfulness, and I urge you to follow me, simply that I may receive feedback on my writing.  It helps more than I can say.  To those of you that have already followed me, please, any feedback is welcome, even a simple good job helps me continue.
That said, the path is laid, it stands before my door, ready to sweep me off my feet, and I've a mind to let it. Let us see where it takes me before that final crossing.  When I reach that, I hope to have done something to worthy.  I hope to have let my light shine forth across the world.  I hope to see you all in the clearing, before that final curtain of mist is drawn, and the last isle stands before us, and I hope you will be proud of me.
Until my next post, may your paths be straight and smooth, may the stars watch over you and the moon guide you, and may all your songs ring true.

David F. Owens III