I love writing, with all my heart. But, sometimes I stray. I know it’s terrible and I’d love to blame it on something, low vitamin D or the earlier sunsets depriving me of time in the pool, but the truth is Minecraft was just too damn sexy to resist.
That little blocky, almost gender neutral, fellow running around with a pick axe smashing rocks consumed me. There were signs I should leave. Like the time I couldn’t figure out how to shear sheep and kept killing them. (Yes, if you whack them enough times on the head with the shears they die.) Or the time I got horribly lost and was down to the last few swings of my pick axe. I thought about throwing myself in the lava. Instead, I tunneled straight up and miraculously enough ended up popping out next to my sheep pen, which is when I discovered if you ignore sheep long enough they escape.
My writing was neglected. Heck if it had been a plant or an animal it would’ve died. After a few weeks guilt set in. I swear my notebook’s pages rubbed together in little whispery sighs of loneliness.
A month in and the pressure built. Scenes flashed through my noggin at a breakneck pace. And then it happened, I had a eureka moment regarding my second novel and how I was going to transition into the sequel. It was perfect and I’m not sure it would’ve come to me if I hadn’t been occupying my mind with something so non-writing.
I don’t regret my time with Minecraft, and every once in a while I will sneak off and smash a few blocks but writing is the lover I will always come back to.
What kind of detours have you taken? Have they helped your artistic pursuit in the long run?