It’s Sunday night and I’m alone in my room thinking about my worst fear: The Future. Well, my future. I’m a bit of a narcissist, I guess.

Okay, I have a confession to make. That first paragraph was written a long time ago and I saw it while going through my drafts looking for something to write about. But tonight is a Sunday, and I am alone in my room, and I am thinking about my future. I guess it’s a recurring thing for me on Sundays.


My near-future has yet to be decided, but I think I’m going to take as many lessons as I can fit into a weekly schedule for the summer. Kids in Canada are still in school so summer classes for stuff don’t really start until July.

Then it’s back to school for my very last year.

And after that…I don’t know.


It’s hard to describe how I write my stories, but I’m a writer so I’ll try to find the words. See, it’s like this: I just write.

Imagine you’re driving through a really thick fog. You can see far enough ahead of you not to crash into anything. You see signs saying “Right Turn Ahead” or “One Way: Do Not Enter”when your headlights find them in the fog ahead of you, and you can figure things out pretty well. Occasionally, you’ll realize you’re lost, or you’re going in a direction you didn’t expect. Sometimes you’ll go back to the last intersection and try again, but other times you’ll keep going and see where the road takes you. You have no idea where you’re headed.

That’s how I write. I have a vague idea of what direction I’m going, a better idea of what area I’m in, I kind of see points of interest a little ways ahead, and I can see what going to happen pretty clearly for the next paragraph or so. It keeps things interesting for me. Sometimes things happen and I don’t see them coming until the sentence before and I’m as surprised as my characters. Sometimes characters that I didn’t plan for just waltz into the story, and I just leave them there to see what happens.

I feel like that also applies to my life. I have no idea where I’ll be in five years, or even one year. I have a vague idea of what I’ll be doing in six months and an even better idea of tomorrow. I won’t know if I’m making a right turn until more time has passed. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. I don’t like it.


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