Sometimes I feel like I have to write. It is usually at these times that there is nothing decent to write about, though. I write about how the weather has been. I write about my (usually relatively boring) day. I write about the past, about the present, and about my expectations for the future. I write fiction and nonfiction, I write formal and informal, I write essays, poems, stories, you name it. Some people find that weird; they can't see how anyone would do any writing that wasn't assigned. They think I'm insane. I just think I enjoy writing.

Anything I write that's remotely worth reading ends up on Joe's Hole. Maybe I'll make a compilation and publish a book of my articles or something someday. Maybe I won't. Maybe I write in hopes of obtaining fame and prestige in the future. Maybe I think people care what I have to say or what I think or what I did today. Or maybe I just enjoy writing.

I have several ideas in my head, and several projects started. However, very few of them ever get finished. And that's not because of any lack of will or loss of interest on my part--if it's a lack of anything, it's time. I've got novels started that I've been working on since the eighth grade, and I've got articles that I started this past Monday. Neither is near complete, and I keep telling myself to finish both. But then there are things like this--this pointless article--that I can pump out in ten minutes and post somewhere that always get finished. And I write things like this all the time. However, they rarely come out worth reading, and so I save them in files on my computer and never look at them again, then I wish I had backed them up when they are lost in a computer crash or something. So it goes, I guess.

My most recent project idea will probably begin to be put in to words in a Word document later on, or maybe tomorrow. It's a script with all sorts of nifty things like narrations and figurative language and foreshadowing and historical referrences and a plot as thick as maple syrup. And I will probably work on it for hours on end after I begin. Then, another idea will pop into my head, and I will write about it, vowing to go back to the first. Then before I know it I'll be graduating high school with no further progress, and it will be another potentially great piece of writing that was left unfinished, one that I and whoever else on Earth would see it would be deprived of, probably forever. But my intentions are good.

I know this will happen, but I am going to begin anyway. I don't know why I will--I don't know what makes me keep writing anything of any significant length when it will inevitably end up like my past attempts. I keep saying, "I need to finish that." Then I don't ever finish. Somewhere in my mind I sort of hope that I will break this trend--that I will have something worth showing people, something moving, something exciting, something dramatic--but in all likelihood, it won't happen.

But hey, I'll enjoy writing it, and that's all that matters.

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E-Mail: [email protected]