Tag Archives: Belief

When working through it isn’t enough.

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If you’ve read the last few posts you know last week was a low point.

I had too much to drink one night which spiraled until I found myself unable to write.

I didn’t work through it, because you don’t work through depression. It’s a battle that will never be won. It comes back again and again.

With last week I took a step back at what I was doing in my life in writing and my focus was off.

I hadn’t decided what to improve.

I knew there were things in my writing but I didn’t sit down and go through them.

Last week I started reading the Harry Bosch books by Michael Connelly. I read books 1-5 and the first book in the Renee Ballard series.

Connelly makes you like his main characters. They have flaws but they’re valid flaws for who they are. These types of characters are what I needed to focus on, which I why I read so many of them.

I’m taking a break from Hieronymus for a little while. I love Bosch but reading that fast made my head spin.

It’s the characters that make the book interesting, not the story or plot. It’s taken me too long to understand that.

It’s the characters stupid.

Why I’m thinking about my writing differently.

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On Monday I left a little tidbit at the end about how I’m writing differently.

The truth is, last week I came to grips with my focus and the things I write.

I thought about what I enjoy reading, why I enjoy those things and how they can become part of what I write.

It’s about the characters stupid!

Sure the story makes a difference but if I don’t like the characters I’ll quit on a book.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been reading the Bosch books by Michael Connelly.

I’ve read crime books in the past but Connelly makes you like his characters and makes you care about them.

That I’ve gone through 4 of his books in the last week is a testament to his character creation as well as the world he creates.

I’ve always tried to write stories and throw monsters or fantasy elements into them early.

In the past week I noticed I wasn’t writing about characters I really liked. I cared more about throwing the fantasy or horror elements in.

I haven’t always done this but my writing lately leaned that way.

I forgot that characters are the most important feature of a story. If the reader loves the characters they may forgive you for other story screw ups.

This week I’m focusing on short stories with characters as the focal point and the horror or fantasy as secondary.

I wish I knew why my mind strayed from this but I mean to rectify it from now on.

That’s where I’ve been with my writing.

Friday I’ll talk about my emotional state because that’s important.

Have a good week.

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.