Category Archives: motivation

A journey to get done…

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Recently, I’ve become aware of the improvement in my writing.

It happened by my wife reading the first chapter of the book I wrote in December.

She commented on how different and how much it improved upon a separate fantasy novel I wrote a couple of years ago.

To see my wife, who has shared my writing journey as my biggest supporter, pushed me the hardest to improve on how far I can push the scare factor or the limits of what scares me to put on the pages, enjoy and compliment me on improvements, makes me smile.

As a writer who is working toward publishing, this year if everything works out, I believe being honest and working on what you’re afraid to write is important.

I didn’t always feel that way.

I didn’t want to write what scared me. I didn’t want to push the boundaries of what I was comfortable with.

Now I am.

Pushing the limits of our own creativity is important. To me it is singularly the most important thing we can do.

I’m working on something new and if you follow me on Instagram, you know where I’m heading with this one.

I have a lot of stories to write and I hope you’ll continue, or begin to follow me.

Happy writing!

Editing break

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I’ve been thinking about taking a break for a while.

Now that I’m staring at a self-imposed deadline for the current novel, I realized in order to get it where it needs to be, I have to focus on one thing.

This will be my last post for a while.

I plan on taking at least two months to get the novel where I want it, though it may take longer.

If something amazing happens, I’ll drop in, but after this post, I’ll be working to finish the horror novel I wrote in August.

I hope you all have a pleasant and productive spring and early summer and hopefully I’ll see you in the summer.

Realizations and Breakthroughs.

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This past weekend I went to a birthday party for my nephews little girl.

I got to see my sister and my dad.

This weekend I also went to see my brother. He passed away a year and a half ago from an aneurysm.

It was the first time I’d been to his grave since the headstone was placed.

We live four hours away from his grave. I wanted to put it off as long as I could.

While I knelt at his grave, talking to him about things that are going on I thought about all that has happened since he passed.

I queried a book, written four others and I’ll be querying a new book this summer. If it’s not accepted, I’ll publish it anyway.

The realization came after I left his grave, wiped away the tears, and kissed my wife.

I’ve done so much since he passed but not as much as I’ve wanted to. I’ve slacked on a few things, quit on others.

Then there was the breakthrough:

Late Saturday night, while I was laying in bed, trying to sleep. I thought about what I’ve written since he passed.

There are a lot of short horror stories. And a couple of horror themed novels. But if I enjoy the writing and finish the story it has a horror element.

Whether it’s a sci-fi story about shadows on a deserted planet or dark fantasy; it always has those horror elements that I love.

I used to fight those elements. I wanted to write things that people would talk about.

Then I thought of all the horror books I’ve read that stuck with me. Then came the thoughts of the movies that always stuck with me. They’ve always been horror.

I fought for a long time to not have fantastical elements in my writing but I guess they always popped up for a reason.

Anyway, enjoy your week and happy writing.

What fiction is to me.

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The thought of what fiction is to me and what it means to me has been on my mind this week.

It’s the little spaces in between paragraphs when I’m considering what to write next. The moments when I write something well and amaze my self.

Most of all it’s freedom.

Freedom from distractions. Freedom to find purpose in the lives of the characters I create and the ability to try and scare them.

I used to write to impress people. I thought it would but most people don’t care.

When I write it’s to scare myself and maybe my wife. She’s my first reader and if I can scare both of us, I feel accomplished.

I gave up writing for others. There’s no satisfaction in it. There’s no reward in it. They won’t come to you frightened. Most of them won’t read what you write anyway so what’s the use.

Fiction to me is being myself. Finding purpose within the words and trying to make something memorable.

I may not be published but writing for myself is rewarding as hell.

A ledge, a death, and finding myself.

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:TRIGGER WARNING: Talk of suicide.

Five years ago I stood on a ledge. I mean this literally.

I was in the parking garage of the hotel and casino I worked at in Las Vegas. It was the end of my shift and I didn’t want to live anymore.

Over the previous six months, my grandfather passed away, I stopped considering my biological father as my dad, and I contracted shingles.

All of this is related to why I stood on that ledge.

I remember standing, the dry Vegas air blowing through my clothes, and not caring what anyone would think about me not being here.

I was mostly just tired. I felt like I caused a lot of pain and I was tired of hurting.

Something happened that day that was nearly the deciding factor for my life. A co-worker told me, “No one cares what happens to you. No one wants to listen to you talk about your writing anymore.”

Those words, completely full of venom and hate, led me to standing on the ledge.

I stared down at the pavement. Feeling the wind brush back my hair and rippled my clothes. Then, I don’t know why, but I stepped down and called my wife. I don’t have an explanation as to why I stepped down.

I explained to my wife what happened.

No one, not even her knew how bad my depression was. I didn’t want anyone to know that I’d lost it. I’m not sure if its a guy thing, though I’ve come to believe it had something to do with it.

I talked to her through my Bluetooth on the way home. She had no idea. I know no one I worked with did.

Today, I turned 43. Life got better after we left Las Vegas almost four years ago. I see my kids more, love my wife more, and take care of myself. I enjoy life.

One of the reasons we left was the toxicity of casino work. When we left, I was getting migraines 2-3 times a week. Since we left, I’ve had eight of them.

One of my goals after moving was to write fiction daily. I do that now. I’ve written eight books and I’m planning on publishing a book this summer on Amazon.

If you have thoughts of suicide, please get help. Please tell someone and don’t let some asshole you work with drive you to end things.

I continue to suffer from depression, but after trying Transcendental Meditation after my breakdown, because that’s what it was.

TM has become a daily practice for my wife and I. It changed my life, as well as saving it.