Most blog posts have a point but I cannot think of one for the life of me. I still want to write, but I have nothing to say. Intuitively it doesn’t make sense but I’m compelled to write. Always have been. Maybe that can be my point: the compulsion to create doesn’t let up, even when it maybe should.

I’ve got a ton of loose papers, pictures, art, and filed them all away yesterday. I told myself I’m going to use them for collages and maybe I will. I hope I will. But truly there is no use for them. Why am I making art? Why do I pursue creation?

No one is making me. There’s no deadline. I don’t have to finish this book. I can go to workshop after workshop and make no progress and maybe I’d be happy.

What ruins that is the compulsion. I’m compelled to continue and to work toward an end, whatever that may be. It’s a little frightening, if I’m being completely honest. I’ve always been like this so I’m used to it; when I’m not stressing myself out because I haven’t created enough, I’m in a depressive episode. It’s actually the thing that I’ve learned to watch for so I can get myself some help.

I know I have to stop looking for a “why”. There isn’t one, and it’s not some cosmic thing. Or maybe it is – but if it is, there’s no use trying to understand it. I am preoccupied with these thoughts probably because it’s the one constant in my life and the thing that most fulfills me. I love to create. I don’t know what to do with that.

Stuff:

• Gotham Writers workshops – I usually go to the Friday evening sessions.
• A chess YouTuber I really like:

• Book: After the Revolution – post-America, post-apocalyptic novel. Very action-forward and fun.
• Save the Cat Writes A Novel – craft book. Free PDF at the Internet Archive. I’ve been plotting my novel with it.

• Creative Nonfiction Podcast with Brendan O’Meara

KB