My Mind Is Truly Too Occupied To Come Up With A Witty Title

So, a lot of things have been going on lately. I would tell you that that is the reason for my lack of blogging, but that would be a lie. I just haven't had anything worthwhile to say. But school has started now. And suddenly everything is happening all at once.

I'm facing a myriad of writing opportunities. On top of the book that I have now promised Evan's sister that I will finish, and so cannot back out of, I may be undertaking the writing project that will probably be the death of me.

Door number one. The president of the Shakespeare club at LBCC wants me to help write a condensed version of all of Shakespeare's plays. Although I am not in any way a screenplay writer, I agreed to help. That was stupid of me. But part of me is looking forward to that. It should be entertaining, as the goal is to compile all of the 'dirty' parts of Shakespeare's plays, and I'm not completely sure what the includes. I'm pretty sure it's going to be something like an Elizabethan dirty joke book that nobody in the audience will actually understand. But Shakespeare wrote it, first. Don't shoot the messenger.

Door number two. I asked the only creative writing instructor at school to be my advisor, and made an idiot of myself by forgetting to tell him my name and major until the end of the conversation. It was quite pathetic. And then he told me I have to take his class, which starts tomorrow, if I want to be a Creative Writing major, and gave me the syllabus. In his class, I will be required to write a short story. Now, not only is he a brilliant writer who probably already thinks I'm mentally disabled because I can't carry on a normal conversation with another human being, but I absolutely detest short stories and am fairly certain that I cannot write one. So I started one the other night, and it wasn't awful. But it has absolutely no plot, so it hasn't progressed much. Long story short (oh, the irony...), his class intimidates me and makes me feel like I might be a worthless writer after all, and it hasn't even started yet. His class will bring my credit total this term up to sixteen. I hear that's suicide. But Brianna is killing herself quicker with seventeen, so I suppose I'm alright.

Door number three. I received an email from Evan's mom, that she got through a homeschool program, that was written by the author of Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, and she (the author, not Evan's mom) is looking for a girl who loves to write, is 13-19 years old, and has a unique story to tell, to write a memoir. I have never written a memoir, and am not sure how well I'd do. But I have a good subject, and I fit the other criteria. So I shot off an email to her tonight, not pausing to wonder why I'm sabotaging my book by taking on three other potential writing projects.

Meanwhile, I almost feel like I've developed a fan base, because I'm fairly certain that every other conversation I have with people is them asking me when they get to read more of my book. I'm sorry, folks, but I don't have anything new yet. Please do not beat me up. That would make it even more difficult to write. And if you were actually devoted enough to my story to beat me for not writing quickly enough, that would give me a big head and everything would just go down the drain from there. So just pretend that you don't care. If you'd like, I can recommend several authors who are a thousand times more brilliant than I am.

Moral of the story?
Don't ask God to open doors.
He opens them all at once.