People have told me multiple times that I try to do too much and need to be patient for success. One, okay. I'll try. Two, why? Why do I need to pump the brakes on ambitions I have?
"You never thought about moving?" "And leave this view? Screwdriver." "Huh?" "Screwdriver. Please." "Shane, how many boards do we need?" "As many as this boat gives us."
I still have to read through my first draft of Harvest. It's been nearly three months since I finished it but I don't know where to start. The obvious answer is page one, however, I don't know what I'm looking for.
The sun beat down on the backyard. Grass, which usually felt soft and soothing under our bare toes, felt scratchy and stiff that day. Maggie picked at the wood pile for the fire ring beside the shed. Her chipped painted nails chipped at the dry logs' bark. I brushed anthills away with the tip of a stick.
I can't be mad at myself for not doing one passion of mine when I'm doing something in the other, especially when the two cross-over. If you find yourself in a similar situation, remind yourself that you're still doing it, and you can always change focus again when the time and calling require it.
What is it you want out of life? Forty years from now or next week? As I write this, I want a bacon cheeseburger and to perform on a resident Second City stage someday. Both are possible -- one clearly easier to attain.
Fred, just turned nineteen, gripped his rifle tight against his chest. Soot and dirt caked his face, giving him an ashen mask over his pasty, Irish skin. His throat hummed but his lips trembled and chopped up the melodic breathing.
This week, I turned 24 and opened Science Fiction Trouble Feature, Huggable Riot's 11th sketch revue at The Annoyance Theater. SFTF is a show that takes the audience through a myriad of satire and sketch comedy on current topics-- all told through the lens of genre and its B-Movie theme. I love it. I've never been prouder of a show I've been apart of and helped create.
Procrastination and an impromptu list on why I love writing to get me out of this recent funk.
I’ve been finding myself escaping into the ethers of the internet the past few days. Last night, I researched campers for four hours when I could’ve used that time to write, read a friend’s novel, or memorize lines for an upcoming show. Today, while I’m writing this blog post, I’m watching drum line cadence videos.