I lose interest in hobbies all the time. Usually, after a near-obsessive interest in them and buying plenty of supplies. For example, scrapbooking. I was going to scrapbook my wedding. And I did, until I got married, and then I never finished it. It’s been almost 20 years, and I am not done yet. It’s all sitting in a box somewhere. I discovered that I don’t know how to lay things out on a page so they look interesting.
And then there’s gardening. I am quite interested in gardening until I actually plant something, and then I forget to weed. I’ve even gone so far as to start seedlings in my basement, many many seedlings. I can’t find them in the garden by the end of the season.
It’s embarassing how many hobbies I’ve abandoned over the years. Breadmaking (I had two sourdoughs that were healthy during COVID) and fountain pens (they’re all sitting in a case) and sewing (I never had the coordination for that).
Writing is the only hobby I’ve maintained over the years. Even when I get tired of it, I persevere. I finished my problem novel the other day and immediately went to edit it. (I will put it back into the drawer to get some perspective, I promise.) Writing feels like a hobby I can actually accomplish.
Words Like Me 