Category Archives: Writing

The moment you realize it, work harder.

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There’s a moment where you have to look at your goals and realize, I’m not working hard enough.

This came to me the other day as I was submitting queries.

I’ve written 10 novels and only submitted two of them, getting no’s on both, so far.

One is still out with three agents.

But I don’t believe I’ve put enough effort or focus on this. I’m not going to publish this year. That’s my fault for not working hard enough.

I own that.

I will next year. I’m going to put things aside, though as I’ve learned, this blog won’t be one of them.

Some things, like my wife and kids are important. But others, some events and people will not be included in that.

I’ve spent too much time doing bullshit things.

I need to work harder.

This blog will be my place to vent, so here’s my heads up on that.

Feeling the pressure…

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It comes at the oddest times and I’m not sure how to deal with it when it does.

The failure mindset.

Maybe because I’m not published that it comes harder.

I’ve submitted novels to 18 agents. 13 said no to one of them. Another said no to a different submission and one wasn’t accepting unsolicited manuscripts.

The others are out currently.

That’s 3 agents with one of my books.

I’m at the point where I could use a win. I guess we all get that way at some point. It’s happened to me a couple of times.

But right now, where things are in life at 43, a win would be good for my head and heart.

I’ll keep writing because I’m better at it than I am anything else but a win or even an agent to ask for a full would be great.

Anyway, have a great rest of your week. I’ll be over here with fingers crossed and hope in my heart.

Sharing stories and locking the writing door.

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I’ve come to the realization that I work better when I shut the world, and sometimes, people off from me.

It’s not about depression or anything else, it’s about reaching a point where aloneness is conducive for the act of writing and creating.

I never noticed that shutting myself away had this effect.

In what I write–horror–finding a hiding spot in the corner of the room, stopping the world from seeing you, talking to you(except for those who are closest)is possibly the most liberating thing.

I have a small group, my wife and kids being it, and they let me write. I’m not restricted by waiting for someone to text or cal that they’re in town. Or whether they’ll see me if they are.

My family lets me do what I need and it’s reassuring that they have my back., especially my wife.

She’s the on I bounce stories off of. The one I talk to when I need to solve a story issue.

Sometimes it helps, sometimes not. But I can always do that.

There are others who I’ve confused in. Let read my stories but they’re not really interested.

They pat me on the head when I would send them things, but they don’t really want to read.

They have lives of their own but my sharing my writing with them meant something.

It meant I trust you with my heart.

When they toss it away, it hurts.

It’s why I only let my wife read my stories.

I will share things on Reddit or writing sites, but they’ve usually gone through a lot revisions

If I share my writing with you, take as I’m sharing a secret. Don’t dispose of it in your email trash.

Tell me you can’t read it or that you’re too busy for it. I’ll get the hint.

Today I’m writing what scares me. I write it because I have to learn more about myself.

Tomorrow I have queries to send off.

I’ll keep you posted and stay warm.

How do you measure two years?

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In the last two years I’ve submitted to at least 20 agents, written four novels and at least forty short stories.

Of those novels, one is out with agents currently.

I’m writing another and will complete the first draft by the end of the year.

These last couple of weeks I’ve thought about the last two years and what I’ve done.

Have I loved? Have I taken risks? Have I done things I wouldn’t normally do?

It’s a yes to all of that.

I know that tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I’ll be spending it with my wife and kids.

What I won’t be doing is trying to recover or make up for things I did prior to those two years.

Yes I made mistakes but as I said the other day, I have to move forward.

That forward thinking has led me to great places in my writing. Rewarding places in my life and I won’t let a day go by without working to get better at my craft.

I’ve had to eliminate things lately but with those things gone I have better focus.

Moving forward is not about forgetting, it’s about being who I am for me.

Enjoy your holiday and don’t let a day go by without being thankful for what you have, who cares about you, and trying to secure your goals.

Move forward son, move forward.

Write for yourself first.

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In Stephen King’s book “On Writing”, he talks about his first reader.

For him it’s his wife Tabitha. I understand why and for him this works.

For the longest time I wrote with someone in mind. Someone I thought would like the book, understand it, and it would scare them.

To go along with my most recent posts, that’s changed.

I feel there is only one person I should write a story for. Myself.

I am the first reader of the story after all and while I may put things in it for certain people. I’ve become aware that some people won’t read what I write anyway so why would I write a story for them?

I put things in on the off chance they would but I’m no longer under delusion the will.

It comes to what terrifies me. What makes me think, “Damn, we skipped some levels.”

Those levels are the places I used to write from.

Living in fear of being judged of the things in my mind. The things I better not put in stories because someone will think there’s something wrong with me.

I no longer live in those levels, neither do my stories.

I have more to submit this week, as I said in other posts.

This week will be one with my wife and kids and it’s snowing as I put these words on the page.

Have a pleasant Thanksgiving and I may put another post up later in the week.