I'm writing a book of short stories.
I walked Main Mall yesterday as classes let out. The sea of people induced a twisted feeling of anxiety deep inside me. The anxiety emboldened me. One of my goals for this year was to indulge my creativity. As a teenager I drew and then girls happened. Just before I started university I started writing. I had chunks of time between biology at Convocation hall and afternoon biology labs at Ramsay Wright. I would find a spot at Hart House and scribble some lines outside Sid Smith. I blamed a science heavy course load for not pursuing writing for pleasure - I'm not proud of that. My first goal for this project will be to write some short stories as a collection. If I'm really brave by the end, I'll self-publish at Amazon. The working title is Devouring Wendy. It's far too early to tell what it is about. I figure the first few pages will turn into a story or get binned (the latter is the fate I assume for many versions). This is a great way to fill that time between 05:30 and 07:30 every morning!