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It has been a big year, and I am tired.

Three years ago I started a piece with these words. I had just come to the end of my third year of University, so I walked up Kennedys Bush Track and wrote about burnout and how much I missed writing for fun. 

Here I am again, three years on. After six years at University, I’m done. It has been a big year. I am tired. And man, I miss being creative.

Now, I say I miss being creative, but I’m going to take that back for a second. I’ve spent the last year at a creative peak. I wrote a screenplay for my Master’s, and I’m really proud of it. It feels nice to say that I’m proud of it. No self-deprecation in this paragraph.

The script follows two people, Ethan and Julie, as they move through their final year of high school and find themselves at a crossroads. You remember the time? It’s your final year of school, the only thing you’ve ever known, and now it is time to decide what is next. What an absurd time of life. You’ve had to make life decisions up to this point, sure. But this is the first moment where you are truly confronted by the sheer possibility of the future. Everything you have known will never be the same, and everything you don’t know is possible.

The writing process was a great experience. It was everything. It was my life. University was my life. Six years in the stress of study. Six years of learning and growing as an academic, as a friend, as a little guy out in the world. Now, all of a sudden, I’m at the same Crossroads as Ethan and Julie.

The difference between them and me is that I’m not in high school. Thank God! I have a better understanding of who I am. I’m not fully there yet, but I’ve got a pretty good idea, and I am not as stressed about figuring it all out right here and now.

So, what is next for me?

You may not know this about me, but I love writing. I also (when my brain allows it) love reading.

When I read something great, I think wow, I wish I could write like that. I wish I could string words together like that. How do they do it?

And then I write, and I think ew, that is really bad.

I love sharing silly writing here, but when I write something earnest, something real, something well-constructed, I cringe at the thought of sharing it. Isn’t that crazy?

I think I feel this way because, in truth, I’m not all that great with words. Now before you roll your eyes, I don’t mean this in a pick-me-boy way. I mean I genuinely struggle with words. I’ve never felt good with them!

This is in part due to ADHD memory difficulties. My vocabulary is pretty small and simple, and when I learn new words, I quickly forget what they are and what they mean.

But there is also a confidence element to my word struggle. There’s anxiety that I’ll say something wrong – use an incorrect word, express myself dishonestly, or be stupid!

I want to be able to string beautiful sentences together like Ocean Vuong, write an essay like Ann Patchett, and write a film like Greta Gerwig. But I can’t!

Now I’m not delusional, of course I can’t write like them. They’ve had years of experience, written millions of words. I’m not upset that I can’t write like them, but I would like to get there. To do that, I’m going to have to do something scary – I’m going to have to suck for a bit! I’m going to need to sit, write, and struggle.

I’ve had a month to rest after submitting my project, and I’m starting to feel the pull. 

So, what is next for me? I’m going to rest some more. I’m going to ponder. I’m going to think whimsical thoughts. I’m going to watch the world. I’m going to find a spark. I’m going to be silly. I’m going to be serious. I’m going to suck at this. I’m going to be good at this. I’m going to write. I’m going to share. And I’m going to write and write and write. I’m going to write because it’s what I love to do. I’m going to write because it’s what makes me James.

It has been a big year, and I am tired. The view is really nice up here.