What If They Say “Get Outta Here Kid You Got No Future”?

While talking to a friend today I was forced to admit that I haven’t done any real creative writing lately (well, the blog doesn’t count). The creative juices have slowly been seeping out and away from me since I began studying for my M.A. exam, and despite the fact that I’ve had a million and one ideas I haven’t found the time to put a single one on file (this is the 21st century”¦I don’t put a damn thing to paper).

I hate the feeling I enviably acquire at the end of a semester of rigorous study. I’m lethargic despite the exhilaration of having completed massive amounts of work, and I’m depressed even though I have loads of creative free time. I go through several weeks of downtime where the only printed word I can tolerate comes from comic books, and if anyone says “critical theory” my left eye starts twitching and my knuckles itch as if I need to punch something. I’ll slowly begin reading again, but by the time I feel refreshed enough to immerse myself into a work the break ends and I have to begin another semester.

As I’m finishing up my masters degree this December and will be free from academia for a while, I feel as if I should jump off that mental precipice I’ve been hovering over for so long and try my hand at something more substantial than this blog.

Will I fly, or will I hang suspended in the air, waving for help, and then quickly plummet to the valley below leaving only a puff of dust like the Coyote in a Road Runner cartoon?

Who’s to say, really. But I know that nothing I’ve written will every be published if it doesn’t leave my hard drive.

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