The problem with expectations…

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I talked last week about my struggle getting back to writing, having too much to drink, and all of that.

I think last week was about the high expectations I have for myself and my writing.

Every day I try and live a life my kids, my wife, and I will be proud of.

I bartend as many shifts as I can get and write every day.

I worked another event in Park City, Utah on Saturday. The other bartender and I got to talking and he said, “This gig must work out perfect for you.”

And it does.

Bartending two to three days a week works for my writing and family life.

When you’ve come from working full time to part time, the world changes, people look at you differently, but you mustn’t care what they think.

You know how hard you work.

I’m at the desk every day, even this last week when I’ve had to go somewhere else to work so my son could get his summer classes done,(he’s taking an online class this summer to boost his credits for graduation).

So I gave him the space to work on his class and I went somewhere else to work, which I’ll be doing the rest of the summer.

This past week was a struggle. I had to think about my writing in a different way and had to look at the stories I’m writing differently.

It’s hard to explain but maybe I’ll try on Wednesday.

Have a good Monday.

Working to get on track.

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This past week blew me up.

I haven’t been able to get any decent words on the page and the stop-start of stories has thrown my mind into a tiff.

I’ve written little bits of story, but nothing substantial and not anything I’d show to anyone, even my wife.

Today, this morning, I’m working on getting things done, because I can’t sit here and not work. I have to do something, even if it’s editing.

I’m stick to what I said on Monday and I’m getting past what I wrote on Wednesday, and it’s hard.

I’ve had to look at myself and my writing in way that I don’t want. Hell, I’m not sure any of us what’s to look at ourselves the way I have in the past week.

This weekend leads into another week and it’s day-by-day.

I keep going because I have to prove something to myself.

This isn’t about getting published anymore.

Its about proving to myself with all the headgames and all the the ways my mind tells me I can’t, that I can.

Have a good weekend and I’ll see you on Monday.

Catching the failure bug

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The problem of being an unpublished writer it there isn’t a metric of comparison. I can’t compare myself to my writing idols, they have something I don’t.

This weekend, after I reconciled with myself about my actions, I thought about my work ethic.

Have I been working hard enough to get published? Am I focusing properly? Is there something more I could be doing?

I realized there are a few things I’m not doing and some I’m not doing enough of. There are streams of sunlight at the end of each storm, but we tend to think of the storm, what it did, how it wrecked us, but we don’t think about the clean up. We’re too focused on the storm.

The storm struck me this past weekend. It made me question my writing, it made me question myself.

For me and my struggles with depression, this is a dangerous road to travel. Much like sandbags along a river, I have to set up markers and ways to stop the progress of doubt and feelings the stop or hinder me.

These markers usually work, but this one, it’s taking things away from me.

I’m working to get through it. I stare at the keys when I’m writing and wonder if I should keep going. I get words, but are they good enough?

I feel my writing is good. I’ve improved greatly over the last eighteen months. But the doubt crept in. The sandbags filled with water and the dam broke.

Life tosses us through the storm, the sandbags break, the water spills over the dam, but we keep going because that’s who we are and that’s what we do.

But sometimes, the dam breaking hurts. It causes us to question where we’re going.

I’m struggling a bit this week. It’s been a while since I have, but putting it on the page for the world to see and for the world to know helps me get through it.

Own your screw ups!

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This weekend I went to my niece’s wedding, drank too much, got sick, and didn’t get to do all the things I wanted to with my kids on Father’s Day.

I am totally to blame for this.

There’s this thing I tell myself about taking responsibility for my actions.

I hadn’t drank in a few weeks and I took my eye off my goals to drink. I haven’t done that in a long time.

My goals mean a lot to me and that I took my eye off the prize at the end of this writing journey, pisses me off.

I’m angry at myself for drinking too much. I couldn’t write on Sunday because the effects of the alcohol were still in my system. I don’t write well intoxicated. It comes out forced and horrid.

So I’m holding myself to a goal.

No alcohol for the rest of the summer.

I let myself down by drinking too much and in the process screwed up my writing schedule.

Own your screw ups.

Acknowledge every time you’ve messed up and say you’re sorry to those you’ve hurt.

I drank to excess on Saturday and let myself, my wife, and my kids down.

Have a good week.

When people you don’t know support you…

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During my bartending event on Wednesday night I had someone I’d only met tell me, “Keep going with that writing and stay focused on it.”

I don’t get that kind of support from family and here was this guy, I’d only met an hour ago, telling me this.

There are people in this world who get it. They understand what you’re trying to do, and why.

Sometimes they are few and far between but they are there.

Now that we’re at The halfway point of the year I can look back and say I’ve done some great things to improve my self and my writing.

The former is supposed to spelled that way.

I have worked on avoiding anger, people who disrupt my work, and those who see what I’m doing as a dream that will never happen.

I work hard on writing, my self, and who I want to be.

This man saw that and I thanked him for it.

Have a great weekend, I’ll be spending it watching my amazing niece get married.