Over the past year and a half, I've had little interest in inventing new stories to construct. This isn't so much due to a lack of imaginative urges as it is a result of half realized stories lingering around like so many spiders on the brain. Coupled with my fair share of industry frustrations during the course of the past half-decade, I came to the conclusion some dozen or so months ago to focus my efforts on stories that I had already worked on to varying degrees, not in hopes of gaining anything beyond my own sense of satisfaction.
Beginning last summer, I started to write the first draft of a story that had been thoroughly outlined some years ago, while also revising a manuscript that had been completed even years before that. I've since completed two revisions of that story, which now awaits its fate in the aforementioned world of "industry", leaving me the chance to return to the first draft of the other one. Though it's been a busy month, welcoming my first child into the world, I've since begun reading over the chapters that were written last summer and starting the process of reclaiming my train of thought and my mastery of the characters.
These days I feel that I'm more of a completest when it comes to my work. In my younger years, I was so eager to simply write, write, write...but as I grow older, I feel the urge to compose. There's a fine line between writing a manuscript and building a story. So far, I'm enjoying the carpentry of it.