Tag Archives: depression

Writing for you, skipping out, and gathering in a storm.

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After writing Monday’s post I thought more about the person I write for.

The kid whose parents don’t let them read what they want, the twenty-something writer that only wants to get their foot in the door, the writer and reader I am today.

The kid is the easiest to write for because without restrictions they can read anything.

The twenty-something is a bit more difficult because they want they’re writing to mean something, but they also want to have fun while writing.

The writer and reader I am today is the most difficult.

They’re the person in the mirror and I feel unsure about how to help that person.

Do I write something truly terrifying that maybe an agent may enjoy, or do I write something just to say I have something published?

I think this conundrum bears further exploration and may lead my writing to better places.

It’s difficult for me to write things where it’s truly terrifying because I still worry about judgment. I know I shouldn’t because in the end it’s my name on the book and not the judgmental person but I still worry.

There’s this thing running through my head where I see everyone judging me based upon what I write. It’s the main reason it took me so long to stick with horror.

I’m a dark soul, I always have been. And in that darkness I find solace, peace, and freedom.

It’s why I struggle with depression. It’s why I’ve struggled with alcohol(1 month 4 days sober today)and it’s why I need to just say fuck it and write the darkest and most disturbing story I can.

In that story I feel I’ll find the person who should be writing these stories instead of the person pretending to write.

When I write I feel the world stops. When I write it’s like a dream and I’m within the construct of the world.

Without that edging of my dreams I’d be lost and without the writing and darkness I’d never find my way out.

I keep writing and this time I’ll go the darkest I can and see what slithers out of the nether. It’s in the darkest recesses the writer I know I’m meant to be is hiding.

He’s only afraid to make and entrance.

It’s in the bleakest of moments and darkest of storms we find ourselves.

The storm is still there, it hasn’t passed. I believe it’s only waiting for my decision.

Sobriety, writing, and finding yourself.

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A year ago, maybe earlier, I read Doctor Sleep by Stephen King. It woke something in me.

Before that book I’d never considered getting sober, or that I may have a problem.

I’d always thought, that happens to other people. I can handle my alcohol. But that’s what we say when we have a problem.

I haven’t been sober for longer than a couple of days in a long time.

I thought I had it under control.

After reading Doctor Sleep, I noticed similarities between how I drank, why I drank, and whether I got any enjoyment out of it.

Secretly, I started looking at AA. I never told anyone because I was afraid of judgement. I didn’t want the possibility that I could have a drinking problem to be leaked to anyone.

In my family, we drink for a lot of reasons. For celebrations, weddings, birthdays, and a lot of other things.

But when have these things I felt like I couldn’t be me. I had to drink to numb certain pains of being around some family members.

I drank when things at home got too out of hand and my head hurt. If me and my wife got in an argument, I’d do a shot, or two, or three.

It was my coping mechanism.

In my early twenties I drank to deal with rejection. I drank to fit in because I didn’t like who I was.

It’s odd to think of this now, but I did. I drank because I felt I had to in order to fit in.

I also believed it would help my writing. It did for Hemingway.

I fell under that spell. The one where a writer or creative must drink in order to be creative. I fell for that hard.

Now, after being sober for a month. I’m nearly done with the edits of the book I wrote in the spring. I’ll finish those later today.

I’m learning that I have find other ways to cope with things. I have to talk to myself more, I have to talk myself down from things, and when my irrational mind starts acting up, I don’t reach for a bottle.

The last month has been difficult. Not because I got sober; but because I learned I can get through life without alcohol. I can have fun with my wife without needing to drink.

As of this writing I’ve been sober for 1 month.

I feel more focused. Food tastes different, which is weird. My stomach doesn’t hurt as often as it once did. I feel a better connection to my wife and kids, and that’s the big one for me.

It hasn’t been all rainbows and unicorns but it’s a hell of a lot better than my last drunk.

Editing, trying to read, and being lazy.

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I’ve been editing the book I wrote in the spring and really enjoying it.

I’ve been trying to read but I’m book hopping right now and it’s driving me nuts.

I have to be reading horror to write it and nothing is really enjoyable.

I’m fidgety. I can’t think straight when I am reading and I’m having a hard time with it.

I’ve spent a lot of time playing video games lately when I should be reading. That’s helping but I would like to read something and not feel bored.

When I don’t read I feel lazy. I’m getting the editing done but I’m not writing anything new. That’s been and adjustment but I think it’s working for me to edit and move to the next project after I’m done.

I have story ideas, they’re just sitting and stewing.

I hate that I have to read a genre when I’m writing that genre.

It confuses my brain when I don’t and I need less of that as it is.

I’ll be done with the edits on the draft by September. Then I’ll start a new project/

I’ll be querying it the end of October.

But I’ve taken enough time with my meandering through this post.

I nearly forgot about it and stayed up to write it at the last minute.

But I’m getting things done. Hit a personal best at the gym and I’m ready to kill it this fall.

Writing, building blocks, and what makes your voice special.

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A journey can take few weeks, a week, or sometimes years.

This writing journey I’m on has taken me to the lowest places as well as the pinnacle of my thoughts.

I’ve dug through my life for little pieces of stories.

Each piece drips with memories of what where my life was, who was in it, and what music I was listening to.

I pull these pieces out my memory, smashing them together with the characters, and stories I create.

Each one is distinct, functional, and helps me get to the next part of this journey.

The journey, like the writing, never stops, it only pauses.

These pauses are where most of our memories come from.

They are the little glimpses of our childhood. The pain of a lost loved one, or the bitter disappointment of failure.

All of us know what these things fell like.

The way a hospital smells, how a campfire feels, and the way it feels when we’re in the throws of ecstasy with the one we love.

These are the building blocks of stories.

Sure, there can be monsters, aliens, or whatever, but all of them are drawn with the paintbrush of memory.

No one knows what it was like to watch someone die, not from how you viewed it.

Your view of the world is special because it’s your own.

Stories come and go but the way they make you feel or a reader feel, that’s the magic.

It’s exactly why I feel write what you know is bullshit.

It’s write what you’ve felt. Write what you’ve experienced.

Your life experience is what people want to know. It’s what makes us stay up until all hours reading.

It took me a while to understand these things, but now that I know them, they are my gospel.

Go on and live your life. Use it to influence your writing and take note of the little things in your memory. There’s gold in those thoughts.

When I found my voice.

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There’s this often referred to mystical thing called voice.

It’s talked about in books, podcasts, hell I’ve even seen it referenced in movies.

There are many types of voices within a story. There is the narrative voice, each characters particular voice and then there is the distinctive voice each author gives to the story.

Some authors find it early in the writing career, others keep going and find it after writing 9 books.

It’s taken me to the latter of these.

It was never explained to me what this voice means. It’s difficult to explain.

The only way I can describe it is like this.

When you read a Stephen King book, you know it’s King by his description, by his character creation and the way he handles his monsters.

The same goes for any author. Neil Gaiman is another.

You know his work by the mood he sets in his books.

There is a moodiness or vibe to all of Neil’s books. I’ve loved his writing since Sandman. I’ve read a lot of his books. Anansi Boys is my favorite.

With every author you know that author from how they construct, how they build, how each of their stories flow.

This is what your voice is. I can’t tell you how to find it, only that you will.

You’ll discover it while reading one of your stories. You’ll set it down, step back and wonder when it happened.

It will happen, but you have to keep going to discover it.

When it does, you’ll understand why, and you’ll also understand why other stories didn’t work.

You’ll find it. Keep writing.