But that’s the thing, I’m not here often, not writing, not capturing my thoughts for all to see. In fact I hardly write much of anything at all. No time at work (cos, you know, I’m Working) and no time at home (cos, you know, I’m working).

Most of the time it doesn’t bother me, I don’t MISS writing for this blog, I still write for my other “professional” blog but have had little to no inspiration for that other place where I tell tales, or to put it more accurately, I post all the waffly, badly written prose that I pretend is me being creative.

But then, sometimes, I think I’d quite like to take a couple of hours to just write. No interruptions, no deadlines, no expectations, because when I’ve tried to force myself to write something (aka Blogger’s guilt) it ends up being forced, rushed and looking back at some of those posts I wonder why I published them. But hey, published and be damned, and all that.

This blog has never had a real focus so it’s easy to let it drift, easy to find excuses as to why I don’t.

But then, why do I need an excuse?

Hmmm, this is turning into one of those “why do I blog? why should I blog? my blog is for me, screw you!” style musings. Which, for me, is interesting as I wasn’t sure what I was going to write but, for you, I’d imagine, dear reader, is more than a little tedious and… why are you still reading?

This blog is a diary. I have, and will continue to, use it to capture events in my life. Mostly because I have a shocking memory, but also because I like to write. I enjoy words, less so grammar (never been one for rules), and find the act of relaxing into a writing ‘zone’ very soothing. Almost regardless of what I’m writing about.

And now, I’m here.

At the end of this post.

I’ll fire up notepad, create a new blank file, and start typing in an effort to coral both my thoughts and the random words spewing from my head. Inevitably I give up.

Why? Because so much of what I read these days is so badly informed that arguing against it is pointless, or is written by someone who won’t even consider the fact that they might not be 100% on the money, or seems to be written using statements that other people take to be absolutes.

It’s the “absolutes” that really annoy me.

Taking a statement with the presumption that it is complete and full encapsulation of an opinion is very short-sighted, and the usual follow on from that is to presume that you are also in complete opposition with the differing point of view.

So “I like the colour blue” suddenly becomes “I like every colour that is a possible shade of blue” and is extrapolated into “therefore you must hate red”.

So I don’t write those types of things anymore. Not that I wrote all that many of them in the first place but in my continuing quest to avoid negativity wherever I can, I choose not to write about that stuff.

I choose not to write about a lot of other stuff too but that’s for entirely different reasons.

The problem I had was getting rid of distractions. If I sit at my desk, then there is always a wee pile of things to get done, various notes and other detritus to distract my attention … ohh that reminds, I need to order a replacement bank card, ack! see how easy it is.

I use programs like Q10 (for the PC) and WriteRoom (for the Mac) to help remove onscreen distractions, but I realised I need a cleaner physical space as well.

Until such times as I can completely clear out my ‘office’, I decided to relocate to the living room, and sit with the laptop at dining table. No distractions there, well not once I’d gotten rid of the ever curious cat.

And, a couple of hours later I sat back and metaphorically patted myself on the back, having written a couple of ‘chapters’ for that writing website of mine, as well as a couple of posts that just need a final edit before they can go up on my other blog.

I also felt a good deal more relaxed having gotten that particular monkey off my back, and I’ve got plans tomorrow to really gut my office space so I can achieve similar results in the future.

Now, where did I put the bin bags?

I really would.

Every year that rolls around finds me considering it.

Every year I start to jot down notes (where do you think one man tales came from?).

Every year I visit the website, and get excited at the thought.

Every year I think, yeah I COULD do that.

Every year I think, maybe I SHOULD do that.

Every year I think, maybe that’s just what I need.

Every year I think, yes, this is the year. I will do it!

But I won’t.

Not this year.

I just don’t have the time (such a lame excuse, really).

Even if I was to promise myself to MAKE the time.

I wouldn’t.

I SHOULD.

If it really meant that much to me I would.

But I won’t.

Maybe next year.

Maybe.

Will you?

The story tells the tale of a man making his way through life. The man meanders his way along the path of his choosing, though he is only occasionally aware that he chose it, and most of the time his travels are accompanied by a sense of carefree naivety which he happily acknowledges but secretly and quietly despises.

In this tale we learn about the man, or at least the parts of his life that are featured. We learn about his troubles, his happiness, his moments of madness and fragments of beauty. We read odd glimpses that make no sense, and delve into the infinite detail of his soul. The tale has no direction to speak of nor does it care where it is headed for this, like many other tales, does not yet know when, where, or how it will end.

The threads of construction weave tightly, characters come and characters go, and all the while the man of the story maintains. Occasionally we are allowed glimpses of what the man thinks, and the narrative arc builds and ebbs, constantly teasing us with snippets of truth, spiderweb strands of life.

The man invites you to join him in the story but warns you that even he, the main character, is unsure of what you may find. He offers no explanation or reasoning of what may unfold, and he certainly doesn’t consider his story an interesting one. All he knows is that, apparently, he is one man who is driven to tell tales.

And, with a doff of his cap, he humbly asks you to join him.

—

In other words, I’ve launched a new blog, this one dedicated to the more fictional writing that I occasionally post here. I’ve copied all of the posts that are listed in the Writing category here, over to the new website.