Obsess! Stop!

So, I haven't written here in awhile. I was gone for a bit, but that's just an excuse. I guess like everything in my life, I become consumed by it, rabidly passionate, and then, I just...stop. It's not that I lose my steam, or .. well I guess it is. I don't exactly lose interest, I just get sick of stuff. This runs the gamut from things like pomelos to painting. For instance, I'll buy pomelos from the market. I'll eat them every day, for every meal. I'll become an EXPERT on them. Know how to pick 'em, how to peel 'em, the right way to eat 'em. And then, it starts to get to be too much. And I just, stop. I stop eating them. As mentioned, this happens with activities too, like painting. I'll be suddenly seized with inspiration and be maniacally focused. Sometimes I finish the painting, but often, I don't. Often I get to about 90% done before I quit. Well, it never feels like quitting, it always feels like a break, but I still have 2 unfinished paintings on the easel (and a new one drying near the air conditioner). You could blame it on my annoying ADD, but that's a cop-out too, because that's something I've learned to deal with, at least as best I can. It's a very annoying habit of mine, this finding things fantastically boring after being so totally consumed by it. I don't really know how to control it or stop it. Eventually, I am able to come back to the discarded thing anyway, though it usually takes some time.

The reason I'm talking about this is 1) to explain why I haven't come back to this for a bit, and 2) to give a fatalistic premonition to my declaration of wanting to be a writer. "Being a writer" is one of those things I've always wanted, just like "being an artist" or "being an actress" or "being a marine biologist." Things I always thought I had the ability to do, but couldn't really get around to it. Not to mention, any desire I ever had for the first two professions was muted by the promise of being a starving artist. If there was anything I wanted to avoid in my adult love, it was the prospect of eternal poverty. I don't need to be a millionaire, but fuck, by the time I graduated from high school I was sure as hell sick as living at or below the poverty level. Of course it shouldn't be like that, but it's hard to be the keeper of dreams when you've got no money and no prospects. So, others can take their self-righteousness and shove it.

Anyway, now I AM at a point in my life where I can pursue these previously suppressed passions. A writer? How fucking cliché. Who doesn't want to be a writer? ESPECIALLY of novels. You're supposed to start small, right? From your school newspaper to small articles to short stories, and so on. I suppose so, though I WAS an editor on my school newspaper and I have never liked short stories. For some reason, I love novels, but find short stories test my patience. I read them and feel like I'm back in grad school in one of my long and tedious seminars where I drew pie graphs on my notes and colored in a slice for every 5-10 minutes that ticked by. But marathon novels still interest me, though I find dense writing makes me want to puke.

Anyway (again), saying 'I want to be a writer' means nothing. And as mentioned above, I don't know if I have the self-discipline to finish a novel once it's started. I lack a great deal of self-motivation for long run. I have bought a few books -- the typical "Writer's Handbook," as well as "The Writing Life" and "How to Write Historical Fiction." We'll see if they really help. Historical fiction is my favorite. I'd like to do that, but it'd take a great deal of research and time. I love research, but I'd hate to get SO involved and fail. Rather write about something more familiar to me and fail.

The funny thing about "deciding" to become a writer is that suddenly every word you write (that the public sees, from a friend to the whole internet), feels 10x more vulnerable than before. I've only told two people (and since no one reads this, this doesn't matter), but even a simple email to them makes me hyper-aware of the words I write. Are there any misspellings? Do the words match, make sense, are consistent? Are there any antecedents? Yeah yeah, I know it's ridiculous. Give me some time, and I won't give a shit.