My brother called me today. Not on the phone, but in response to a previous blog (Intensity, Vicariously)
He called me on my apparent inability to complete a project, finish a story.
“Pick an eff-ing project,” he says. “Make an eff-ing decision,” he says. “Finish one story before you start another.”
I’ve started so many stories, and finished so few. Maybe I believe I need to finish my own story before I write someone else’s. Or perhaps I do need to write someone else’s in order to be able to write my own. Or maybe my story is still too incomplete.
I really don’t know. Until then do I pick one, or the other, or another?
I wonder what would happen if I did pick me?
Or, what if, rather than complete any one of my incomplete stories, I begin yet another, hoping for some completion?
So I choose now to write another new story, which is actually an old story. But I’m going to tell it to a new person. His name is Gary and he could change my life.
That is, if he likes my story.