Dear World

Please Kill Me,

Hello again friends and nemesis, please pardon my absence. Sometimes life throws you in directions that you may not plan for, at that point all you can do is roll with the punches, and endure ( either that or take the express off the side of a building. I suggest the former.)

Anywho, what have I been up to? Finished my novel, getting reading to begin proofreading it, already began phase 1 (my core test group reading the first draft). Good reviews so far, I’m excited about that, even more so to look at my creation for the first time in over a month, Stephen King suggested as the author 6 weeks is a proper time to allot in order to see your novel with fresh eyes, and make the necessary adjustments too without less bias.

I have on the other hand been preparing to write my second novel. I have plenty of notes and ideas of where I want to go with it, however I find myself blindly wandering, searching for that one thing to give it the UMPH, that makes it worth my time to write. This isn’t incessant obsession over a concept, but more so me knowing that it’s there somewhere, and just not knowing which corner of the forest to look in. SO to answer the looming question, I’ve just been wandering the metaphorical forest, looking for answers. I suppose I may have need the mental break as well.

In my time off however, I have come to one realization, that though I joke about it quite often (perhaps often enough that this may be obvious) I tend to balance on the thread of sanity when my mind isn’t otherwise focused. It’s not such a dark place, it would be better if I didn’t ALWAYS intend on grabbing that thread again at the last second. What would it be like to completely let go? I fear that. Not letting go, but my curious desire to, I’m sure one day it’ll happen, but just in case there is no turning back from that dark path, I want to ensure the door can be closed on this one without question, or worry. And for those thinking this is some weird cry for help, it isn’t; relax. My thinking of it is a tunnel can be dark for a time, but there’s light on both ends, maybe dimmer, maybe brighter, maybe the perfect illumination for the eyes of a writer.

Til Next Time,

Antwan Crump