Falling Back In Love With Fiction Writing.

If you look back at my New Years Resolutions post, I stated that in 2016 I really wanted to fall back in love with fiction writing. Ever since I can remember I've always wrote stories, from fantasy to scifi to romance. When I say that words were my first love I'm really not joking, as from the age of about six or seven I've never been without a trusty book in hand. 

But when it comes to writing my own books, I tend to swing from one extreme to another. I'm either obsessed: cue endless tapping away at the laptop, inability to concentrate on much else; or I'm stuck. The words won't come freely, my imagination runs dry, and for the past year or so, I was falling down an endless pit of being unable to write.

I have several theories about what exactly it is that causes these swift changes. But it all usually comes down to me as a person. I've noticed over the years that I treat reading (and writing) as my own form of escapism and I'm not alone in that by any means. Whenever I feel lonely or bored with my life I retreat into fiction, and it works like magic. Words give me a new purpose, a new story world to live within, something to run parallel against my own existence. 

For my last year at school I was incredibly happy. I'd always enjoyed education, I had a great group of friends and academically everything was going fine. It's times like this when I feel less drawn to fiction, more inclined to 'live in the real world' as my parents would say. But since finishing school I've lost a lot of friends. The majority of my group went to university and despite their best wishes and encouragement - "No, of course we'll stay in touch!" - their lives have moved on. And in an odd way I'm okay with that. People change. C'est la vie. 

Yet it was that loss of real life engagement that had me throwing myself back into the online world. At first it was solely my blog. I can honestly say (and have done before in past posts) that without my blog I'm not sure what sort of state I'd be in. I work an incredibly tedious job, so my mind is really not stretched on a daily basis. This blog gave me a great sense of purpose and it was only recently that I returned to writing fiction.

I can't remember the exact point when I decided to start writing. I know the date, the Sunday before last to be exact but I'm not sure of the trigger point. Since then I've churned out almost 20,000 words and have no inclination to stop. I've fallen head over heels back in love with writing, I live and breathe in that world and it's definitely something that makes me happy. 

I wanted to end this post with a quick note: even though I spoke about engaging with reading and writing when I'm at my loneliest, I'm not unhappy. Right now, I'm content with my life, I don't especially want the friends I lost, back in it, and I'm happy to live with my family.