Well, I'm done with my first book. I didn't really add it to this blog, because for the longest time I didn't feel anything about it. I told my friends, I emailed out copies, but in the end I didn't feel as if anything had really ended; there's still an agent to find, an editor to persuade, and a book to publish, and even then there's no end in sight. I have to write other books as well, books that I've already started writing. The process continues; nothing is really any different. I've put off searching for a publisher for the time being, as I figure that my professors will better be able to help me find a publisher than I can do it on my own.
That being said, I've started on my second novel, and my first one is finished. It's strange, looking back on it, how much it came to be about me, how much of it was based on my own life. It's a fantastic and fictional version, of course, but most of the events parallel ones that I actually experienced in my own life, with the added fictional flair. I feel both excited and disappointed by this; on one hand, I've not been very imaginative, but on the other hand I've produced a work that is really steeped in the issues that I find important in my life. The book isn't a great one, but I've put my integrity into it. Hopefully, that will be enough to sell it.
On the other hand, I've started writing my second book. My original plan was to write a book about the second coming of Jesus, a book that I now realize is far too controversial for me to actually publish at this point in my career. As such, I've shelved it, and am focusing now on another project, that of a novel based in the same fantasy world as my first book, but with a norse theme behind it. It's more challenging than the first, partly because I have to be imaginative the the structure of the plot, and partly because I have to do a lot of research to ensure that the book is authentic to its themes. Of course, I have no intention of getting everything perfectly right; I have no real eye for history, and like only to focus on grand events and motives for things. As such, I don't expect to produce a perfectly norse novel; it's been set in an alternate universe, at the very least, and I have no obligation to be authentic in fiction, yet I have a certain interest in at least capturing some of the major themes of the work.
Meanwhile, I've begun to lift weights again, as I was unable to in France. Taking a weight gainer as well, I've already put on a few pounds and surpassed my weights from before my trip. As such, I need not tell you that this goes very well. I've also returned to my part-time job, working a good number of hours per week. This has limited the amount of time that I have for things, particularly with my numerous hobbies, but I've made good money and have come to a much better proficiency in that job than I've ever had previously; I can probably easily get a similar restaurant job in other places as a backup if I ever need a job after college, before I manage to get published and earning money.
In bad news, however, I've come to more difficulties with my girlfriend. I have no more wish to spread my personal life over these pages; I know how well that turned out last time, and don't wish to repeat those events. Yet, I must come to a way to understand my feelings, which are very confused. A part of me wishes to end this relationship, yet another part is entirely dependent on it. At the moment, both factions war in my head, and neither has gained any foothold on the other. I really don't know what to do, and it bothers me more than anything else. I love her, have no wish to hurt her, yet at the same time I am unsure of my ability to have a future with her. I'm doing everything I can, but it's very difficult for me right now. That's all I intend to say; no specifics, nothing else for people to catch onto and tear me down with.
It's strange, the way the world of the celebrity works. To stick oneself out there, to put oneself out for the public to see, is the most dangerous game in the world. It has the best rewards, yet I would say that even these rewards are far from worth the frequent consequences. Yet, against my will, I do these things. I write this blog, trying to get people to read it. I attempt to write novels, strive towards physical perfection, try to be as friendly as possible in social situations, all despite the fact that I know this to be disastrous to my health and welfare in the end. That is the great paradox of my life; I am in a constant struggle to do what I consider to be wrong. This part of me, the part that writes this blog though I know it only opens my life up for ridicule, the part that wishes to withdraw from the world and perfect my craft, this part which fuels my love of exercise, this part, which removes me from my relationship with the woman I love, is the part that has come to define my life. Yet to what purpose? At what cost? What will it give me, in the end? I will sacrifice, I will work, I will strive, but for what? Does it make me happy?