I don’t really want things in life. Not that I’ve learned to be content with the disparity between my desires and my reality; I have just not wanted anything for a very long time.

I read books about writing. I look for what I should seek to create, invoke, evoke in my writing. But really, I think I’m just looking for something to want. I’m looking for something to be passionate about.

I’m not a person who’s learned to be content. There’s just nothing I want or need. But I want to want something. I think I need to need something. Otherwise, what can I write about? I can’t write about a person who wants nothing. Even in the midst of a great happening, he wouldn’t be a character to root for. He’d just be a fixture, like a lamp-post or chair. He’d be furniture. Not everyone is interested in furniture.

Anyway. I need to get back to the roots. A story is of characters who want things and the ways they overcome what holds them back.

At the very least, I want to be interested in the work I do. In the things I create. I want to create interesting things.



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