At some point in time, I intend to reboot Scurvytown. But I have been saying this for far too long. I have half written episodes, at least half a dozen of them. There’s story notes, outlines, plotlines, ideas for the future. Which is great and all, an idea that exists in the future, but if you don’t put the time into it now, that’s the only timeline in which it can ever exist: an imaginary one.
When I started Scurvytown, it was a place to go to on writing exercise adventures. Make mistakes. Make them in ink. Or virtually so. And not really worry too much about bad writing that happens to everyone. Kind of like this entire paragraph.
The thing is, I know that whole working two jobs thing can only hold up as an excuse for as long as I can handle expending my time that way, and that’s beginning to fray around the edges. The part time gig is way more demanding than the payback for doing it, and it brings more frustration than it does joy, which is a shame, really. Which I think is why it’s been so hard for me to admit.
Trying to balance a chronic illness on top of all that has been pretty much made of bad choices. But I’ve made enough changes in my life lately (new full time job, new living situation), that all of that has improved tremendously, and that gives me the hope I needed to forge through, to commit to a passion project I love, and one that’s mine and mine alone. If nothing else, the chronic illness has taught me valuable lessons about balance and the worthwhile things that deserve to have energy reserves thrown at them. The past is in the past. Time to forge the future I’ve been imagining.