Tribes and Birthday Presents

So yesterday's melancholic.. is that a word?... post was from the heart, but also inspired by Tamara Hill Murphy's blog post: Will You Be In My Tribe? I've been staring at paper, staring at pages, for two years with not a lick of fiction written except for some rough notes for a novel in a note book (sounds like a cool novel though). Granted, I had a backlog of completed work, and am slowly poking my way through a much-needed edit of Plague of Darkness (though poking is still too strong of a word). I have a promised story for an anthology way past due - a story I have completely fleshed out in my mind but which might be far too late when I write it down - we'll see. Don't want to ask. Want to write it - want to write. Period. But I don't. I stare and sometimes even force my fingers down onto the keyboards, typing like I'd be running from a monster in a nightmare: one... slow... step... and come out with a word. It's really, really bizarre. So this strange conditon is not for lack of ideas, I'm brimming with them, but something else. Partly, yes, my life is a hell of a lot different lately. New love, new life, new world, new wife and all that. And I play games with myself - should I write this, that, what is my calling, will writing horror be against that, what exactly is that?

That kind of thing. Mental, creative procrastination. Meanwhile, nothing is written.

So, I have an idea. Yet another, true, but I like this one. Inspired by Tam's post, but also a line from Matt Mikalatos' book Imaginary Jesus:

"You're so afraid of your imagination," Pete said. "You never use it for good things because you're worried you'll end up imagining something pornographic. You need to get control of yourself. The imagination can be purified like any other part of you."

And the fact that I still owe Mom a birthday present from January, and promised Dad a painting for his which was last week. And I stand at the art closet dreading any pending creativity. Then I thought of it  the idea, I mean. Mom's going to be getting a bit of a selfish (to me) present... but then again, being a parent myself, it might be exactly what she would have asked for, had she even known she wanted it. :-)

More as it unfolds and I make sure I don't cop out.

Accountability. It works. If you take it seriously.