Hunting for Crumbs

It seems I've been heading in about nine directions lately.
Maybe it's anxiety over finally finishing a project I've been working on so long, money worries, lack of sleep, whatever. It's a big blobby mass of Ugh.

Focus issues aside, I've been foolishly throwing around the idea of creating another serialized piece of fiction for Jukepop, which is an awesome platform for those who write serialized fiction since you have a chance to get paid to do it. BUT, there is always a but, it is kind of it's own entity, they usually pay for unpublished work rather than published, so while I might gain more audience points for New Earth 6, I might not get paid for it. Plus, call it a hang up, simultaneous submissions make me uncomfortable.

Throwing my work out there is hard. It's not like I'm a delicate flower who will wilt under criticism, it's just hard to put myself out there. I think I fear the idea of No Interest over Negative Interest.

See here I am losing focus again. Thinking of Jukepop and what I could do with it, I wondered if I could produce another story worth serializing. I have lots of ideas buzzing around the noggin, but I wasn't sure if I was up to spinning a whole new universe while trying to edit one book and write another.

This morning I found myself opening the closet to yank out my binders of old scribblings.
I have mixed feelings about writing I did years ago. These are stories I penned before I really understood things like plot points and world building. It's a bit like throwing a bucket of paint on the canvas rather than using defined strokes.

It's cringe worthy, there is stuff in these binders I don't remember writing, or hope I was in an alcohol fueled haze or something. High school angst haze? Anyway I save these shuddersome pieces for two reasons.

One: I like to occasionally pull them out when I'm feeling particularly unmotivated and say "See, look how far your writing has come! Now get back to the computer, you sloth, and type faster! *whip crack*"

Two: Times like this. Then I go hunting for Crumbs. Crumbs are ideas that flashed through the brain over the years but I lacked the time/skill/resources to fully realize them. I hold onto them because I know someday I will find a use for them. I found my Crumb after an hour of flipping through the deluge, a short novella I wrote freshman year or so of college.
The story is meh, but it's not about the writing. The writing will be stripped away, I'm after the bones of the piece, that's where my Crumbs are.

Now it' s a matter of balance and priority. I am teetering on the edge of taking on too much at once. There is just so much I want to do, but I must create an order to do things, or POOF, up in smoke I'll go. I may have unearthed my Crumb but it, and Jukepop, may be cast on the back burner until one project is off the table. Perhaps forcing myself to slow down will inspire my focus. If I complete something, I can reward myself with this.