I love the state of Wyoming. I have never felt more at home anywhere else. I love the low population, the desolate landscape, the wide-open prairie, the wildlife.
I hate the politics, the red-state mentality, the drive to keep ripping oil and gas and minerals from the earth, the reliance on fading fossil fuels, the inability of the state government to move into the 21st century.
*pictured – Sugarloaf Mountain, Snowy Range, Wyoming*
Wow…it’s been awhile since I posted anything here, huh? No one to blame but myself. I’ve had a hard time getting back into writing, and I can’t pin any one reason down. I like to write, I really do…but there’s sometimes fear when I think about writing. Fear that the ideas will die, and I won’t know where to take the story next.
There’s also a self-confidence issue. Is my writing good? I like to think so. I know I can always use more practice honing my craft, getting better at creating interesting tales, but I think – no, I know – that I’m a good writer. When I read other stuff out there, some of it is so cliched and poorly crafted and illogical and just plain bad…but it gets published. It gets read. It gets reviews. And I don’t.
So does that mean I’m not a good writer? Am I arrogant? But isn’t a little arrogance necessary to put yourself out there and say, Hey! Look at me! Look at what I did!
And if no one reads your stuff, then why write? I carry a lot of stories in my head. Why put them down on paper if no one else will ever see them? I detest hypocrisy, so I’ll be honest here – I want to hear that someone read my books and liked them. That they did for someone else what my favorite authors do for me – give me something to thrill over and linger over and love. I want to hear that from someone so badly…
I blame no one else but me for not doing much writing lately. I have always been my harshest critic, my biggest obstacle, my strongest failure.
But I’m working on changing that. I really am.
So, if you’re out there, stick with me.