It was an exhausting, strange, trying, reflective month. I spent five days in Southern California working on a film project with friends, which was such a considerable experience as I got to reconnect with community while also bearing witness to the intricacies of visual storytelling. The film is looking great (I viewed the rough of the final cut today) and we’ll be submitting it to outdoor film festivals over the next couple of months.
I also spent a week in Las Vegas for a furniture convention that commences twice a year. For those of you who don’t know, I work in the furniture industry (continuing an occupational legacy passed down from my parents) and occasionally tag along on such endeavors.
Lastly, I taught a self-publishing class at the end of the month through the Thunderhead Writers’ Collective
here in Bozeman. The class went well though it was entombed by days of debilitating physical illness. This sickness then contributed to a waning disturbance in my mental health—I haven’t been very motivated to read or write as of late, being bogged down by the reality of how difficult the literary industry can be (those who took my self-publishing class, unfortunately, got to hear a lot of my complaints on the matter).
Regardless, I’m back to an acceptable level of physical and mental stability. I keep writing. I press on.