Big Ol' Moths

I’ll level with you. I admit that I didn’t post any writing yesterday, but I did some. Retroactively, that is. It was the first thing I did early this morning, but it’s done. I rattled off five-hundred secret words and emailed them, they’re out there in the universe. My pace is still on, and here I am now.

When I don’t work in a day, I think I’ll start doing this in the morning. It feels weird to sit here at 7:20 on a Saturday evening. Where I want to be, and where I will be in about four hundred in fifty words is out on the deck, enjoying this beautiful August breeze with a cup of coffee. I have a book, Artemis by Any Weir, and it’s calling to me. I meant to sit down after dinner but made the mistake of starting season two of Dear White People while I ate; I love that show so much. I’m about three minutes away from the end of the second episode but have it on pause behind me because a friend needed an email from me. It would have been silly to pass up the moment to get these words out.

As I typed the phrase “August breeze,” my mind was pulled back to last August, a turbulent time for me. I had lost my job, but Steph was still working. I muddled through the evenings, creating the pieces that would become End of Side One, and had my windows open constantly. Nothing but summer air and sounds of the city filtered through my living room. It wasn’t until the turn of seasons that I wrote it, but the song The Aether reminds me of august. I listened to it this morning for shits and giggles, and I can’t believe how sad it feels. I truly was broken when I made this album.

It’s weird to think about; right now, I’m making more music—I’m compelled to put out tunes in small batches for organizational reasons, leading to five song albums and four song EPs. But the music I’m checking the final mixes on right now sounds worlds away from what I did in December, it sounds like I’ve learned something, and for what it matters, it sounds better. I think I might put it out this weekend, and that’s exciting. I like “putting things out,” including this writing. I feel like it gets things out of the way, allowing me to move on.

I’ve got two more projects kneading at my brain when I’m not paying attention: one’s a concept album about robots, both tiny and giant; and the other is that story that I was talking about earlier on this blog. I’ve got a solid list of ideas, and tomorrow (or maybe even later tonight) I plan to get them all together and distill it in to a plot map, so I have something to follow when I start writing. I’m so excited to start, it’s an exercise to see if I can write something everyday that will be compelling—it’ll force my pacing into a certain place, and we’ll see if I can engage people enough to come back daily.

And, if I can’t, I’ll try something else. No biggie. I’ve been flourishing since I stopped beating myself up over stuff—I truly feel liberated in my own skin and mind these days.

See you tomorrow, I’ve got a book to read and only so long to do it before I have to contend with big ol’ moths.