Haven’t really been posting a lot, I know. I have been posting a bit more frequently on Twitter, mainly because it is a must more free-form medium and doesn’t require heavy thoughts. Not to mention, I can post from my IM client which makes it easier.

Probably the main reason that I haven’t been posting is because I don’t think I have much to say. Yeah, most of it is emotional going on, but I think I’m finally getting tired of being a wannabe, but at the same time, I’m not actually doing much to not be a wannabe. It doesn’t matter if it is a programmer, writer, or anything else. I keep saying I want to be something, but I’m focusing on getting through college and just getting through the weeks, not on really creating anything new.

GenCon does this to me. There are so many talented people out there who have done my dream. I see their books on the tables, chat with them on occasion and I love doing it. Even the people who write books I don’t care for, I still put on a pedestal. They got there. They wrote something to put on a table. They sat on the table and did my dream. But, I can’t help feeling that I’m just dancing on the edges. It reminds me of the old drumming circles at the festivals I’ve gone to. I spent so much time standing on the edge of the firelight because I was afraid to take that plunge.

Fluffy says it isn’t nearly that bad. I’ve had almost continual writing commissions this year. It is actually the second best year I’ve ever had with commissions and she, repeatedly, tells me that I should be proud of that fact. Steady, repeat business writing. But, somehow, I still don’t think I’m a “real” writer.

While unpacking my office (11 boxes and 5 meters worth of books left), I found two copies of MG in a box. One was the original publication and the other with the cover I commissioned myself and absolutely and utterly adore. It is like a medal sitting on my desk, a reminder that I did it once and I can do it again. Its a nice feeling, more so when Fluffy asked me to read it out loud to her at night.

I really try not to give up. And I’m not giving up. I’m still writing every week but I still feel that I’m not really doing anything.

Oh, that high when you can write the words “END” at the bottom of the page and mean it. It is my only drug and probably one of the reasons I can’t drink alcohol or anything even remotely stronger. No chemical can come close to the buzz of finishing a story.

This specific high comes from the first draft of the commission that took forever to start. It came out to just over six thousand words, which is less than the ten thousand I aimed for, but I knew it might. This is actually a set of commissions, with a 50,000 word limit; mainly for a +100% bonus for giving me money when I needed it desperately. I have the first five stories requested, this being the first one, and I might go into a sixth or seventh by the time it is finished. It might take me a few months, but I’ll be damned if I don’t fulfill my obligations. I got paid and I will finish.

I’m also excited because I just took a 49 second clip of an anime and turned it into this story. And for those–not just the person who asked for this–who read it, it has the potential of turning that minute into something far more intense.

And that, to be honest, excites me just as much.

I’m enjoying this moment.

I love when I finish the first draft of stories. In this case, I managed to finish up the first draft of the commission at 12,192 words. The word count is less important, as long as I reached the minimum of 10,000 words. Joys of being paid by the word, but I also reserve the right to go over when I think it is appropriate. Most of the time, I usually give them 10-20% more because the story needs it, but there are times when I almost double the length of a story, just because I need to the story out.

This commission is a good story, I think. But, it makes me feel really great when I can finish that first draft and check it into Subversion for an off-site backup. I’ll let it sit for a day or so, then clean up the bad English and smooth out some of the sentences before sending it over for review.

This is what makes me feel like a “real” writer. It is crude, writing for money, but it still feels good because I’m creating stories. I love taking someone else’s idea and wrapping it into something polished. Putting my spin on it and knowing that they’ll be reading something familiar and strange at the same time when they get my PDF. And the emotions they put into making the request, and the anticipation of seeing it in their mail box, will make it so much more intense when they read it. These stories aren’t for sitting on a shelf at Walmart or in a grand bookstore. They are creations that are written for one person and one person only. And it will, at least in part, fulfill only one person’s dreams.

I have to say, that is a “real” writer to me. Someone who can make a fantasy become just a bit more real for someone. Yes, it hasn’t made me famous or rich. Actually, it is also easier. I don’t have to please agents, publishers, and buyers. I just have to please one person at a time. While I’d love to inspire the fantasies of thousands, or tens of thousands, like the writers of my goals, I’m perfectly happy to do it one person at a time.

Now, just to get to the point where I always feel like a “real” writer. Instead of this flash of emotional high that, like all drugs, passes way too fast.