retreat

  And so it goes that at times I shall retreat back into the darkness and silence within and come out a new and better person. Writing hasn't held as much appeal to me lately as reading, Howard Phillips Lovecraft, to be exact. I have quite a soft spot for 19th Century literature, even though he is technically a 20th Century writer, the feel is the same; very reminiscent of Poe and all the other great decadents but with a superior twinge of the macabre and celestial.
  I forgot what it was like to get lost in a story, to feel your pulse quicken and to picture yourself there, using your brain's finest powers of imagination. Perhaps that is a writer's curse? Too busy writing all the time and not taking enough time to read.. or perhaps it is only MY curse. Either way, it's the season of spook and it is thoroughly fulfilling to lose myself in the mad and macabre, especially during the changing of darker seasons.

  And this got me to thinking again, and wanting now to put more focus on trying to write stories again, short ones, like Mr. Lovecraft, though mine would have to contain some element of mysticism or spirituality; spiritual or existential horror, perhaps.. If there is such a thing. Horror is a subjective thing, though; what terrifies one enthralls another, so it is purely an expression based off the author's own.
  Truth is, I have no ideas to start on. Never do. Sometimes you just have to start writing and get the wheel turning manually. Most importantly, I need to remind myself that it is an art and a craft, and as such will need work to constantly and consistently improve; in other words, this shit doesn't write itself, so get moving!