With all the distractions and disappointments the day job has brought me in the last year, I have had to double up on creative outlet time whenever I had the chance. Photography has been my outlet and my jell-time. That is when I take off at sunrise and scout around the nature parks for creative inspiration and gratification, take pictures, and think about whatever WIP I'm working on. It seems as if I have two endeavors competing for my time:  photography and writing. My hope is that they will find harmony together.  At the very least, I am finding my voice in two places now.

A couple of weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to win first place in the last art show I entered. The piece was not a technical tour de force. I could have deepened my depth of field a little, sharpened my focus a touch more. Nor was it some dramatically compelling subject like that of a pulitzer prize-winning journalistic picture. What it did have was attitude.

Yes, I lined up some tiny (I'm talking size-of-my-pinkie-nail tiny) chocolate Santas and played with the depth of field to focus on one imperfect specimen who was second in line. He had a little hole in him and he was far from perfectly sculpted. I titled the piece, The Line-Up. Ghost Hunk calls that my wry sense of humor.

How does this relate to my writing? Well, in both places, I am searching for my voice, and I'm never sure where I stand. This photograph is not perfect, but it has some spunk. It has a voice that says, "Look at me. Yes, it's okay to have a little chuckle. This is who I am."

Our last few check-ins have brought up the issues of comparison and jealousy and that urge to quit. Every time I enter an art show, I see how everyone else is doing and focus on why they are better than I am. Inevitably, I have no sense of the good work I am doing. The same goes for my writing. The only way to handle this is to get lost in whatever dream I'm dreaming when I write or when I take pictures and listen to that inner voice. I have to embrace my WIP without editing or comparing my work as I go or surely I will drown.

So, for my last post of madness, I encourage you to club that green monster in the head and stuff him in a box and tape it up tightly. Then demand a serious hug from your WIP, because once you feel those arms around you again, you will want more. Only you can tell your story. So tell it.