Tag Archives: Life

Boy, do I have a story for you all

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I’ve dealt with stomach issues for the last year. It was preceded by a colonoscopy.

I didn’t think anything of it. I started having back issues a few months later. I didn’t think anything of it and went to a chiropractor. I dealt with severe migraines while working in Las Vegas, and adjustments helped.

I’ve gone to my chiropractor since March, but over the last month or so, I wondered if the back issues were something else. My back pain was consistent, and the chiropractor didn’t alleviate it. It did help with my neck issues, however.

Last week something was different. My stomach issues stayed throughout the day. By Friday night, it hurt, but I went to work at my new job bartending at a local bar.

Throughout the night, I’d get bits of warmth, moments where I’d have to stop and take a few minutes to catch my breath. When I finished that night, I was ready for bed.

I got home, almost falling into bed, and my stomach killed me.

Saturday morning was a whole other ballgame. I felt like I’d been punched. Every movement hurt. I was supposed to bartend a Halloween party that night, but I called off. I told my boss I was headed for the doctor as my stomach hurt too bad to move.

Once at the clinic, I was told it may be my appendix, and I should go to the emergency room. My wife drove me to the emergency room. It was a visit I didn’t want as I believed my appendix would burst.

I received a CT scan around 11:30. A hour later, I was in room told I had possible sepsis. If you don’t know, I linked to the Mayo Clinic’s definition and details. Needless to say, my wife and I were freaking out a bit. They admitted me to the hospital and started me on antibiotics.

Over the next 48 hours, my pain subsided, but my anxiety skyrocketed. I’d just been told something was in my body that could kill me.

I’ve never been sick enough for the hospital. At 46, it’s something I was proud of.

My diagnosis was diverticulitis. I linked again to the Mayo Clinic as their explanation is better than my own.

By Monday, Halloween, I felt better. My white cells returned to normal. My blood work no longer worried my doctor. They released me. Since Monday, I’ve eaten a low-fiber diet. I still have a bit of uncomfortableness in my stomach, but not the pain I dealt with Saturday.

I learned from this. Never believe your back pain is from your spine. Always get it checked for other things before going to a chiropractor. I will have diverticulitis forever and will watch for flare-ups.

All of this happened the week before my book launch. I know bills will roll in as I live in the States, so please buy my book. It will help my wife and I when these bills do come in.

I wanted to start NaNo this month, but that’s on hold as I navigate this.

The Fear Of Pushing Too Hard

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I have this fear. It rouses its ugly head every so often. I’m working on whatever project, then I think about how much harder I could be working on my writing, on my life, and other things.

This fear becomes complicit in my not pushing my projects when they come out. On not trying hard enough to edit. Each and every one of them deserves my attention, but then there’s this fear.

It tells me that if I work too hard, I’ll alienate those I care about. That they’ll not like me as much. That I’ll break those relationships. I’ve dealt with abandonment issues since childhood. It’s one of my overarching issues.

Within this fear is the worry that if I don’t work harder, what I write won’t go anywhere. I don’t care anymore if it makes money. I care someone gets something out of it. I don’t write for anyone but myself. Some people won’t care about you’re writing. Others will. I stopped worrying about those who won’t. I focus on those who will.

Writing Disunion By Force took me to a few places I hadn’t dared tread since my teenage years. I wrote this book for my teenage self. He read a lot of these kinds of books. Most of them to keep him sane, others to keep him from killing himself.

I found solace and a bit of peace writing this book. I’ve come a long way from the kid afraid of screwing up. He continues to pop up, but I’ve shoved him down a little. I know he’d enjoy this book. I know there were times he was done. Times when it was just him in an apartment reading, watching horror movies, and trying to keep his head above water.

I live through the fear of pushing too hard, but it comes out right. I write for us.

Complaining too much and my brain telling me things.

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Disunion by Force by Brian J. Stone

Everything I’ve written for the last couple of weeks is terrible. Whatever I picked up to read bored me and I’ve talked about it on social media.

Now, I try not to do this, but last week my brain told me off through a dream.

All the writers I interact with had an intervention. One said, “We’ve been watching you for a couple of years. I don’t know where you fell off, but you need to stop complaining and work.”

Needless to say, I thought of this dream for a couple of days. It resided in every waking moment. When I thought I got away from it, there it was, reeling me back in.

The funny thing is, I thought everything was fine. I didn’t see it. My subconscious did. It yelled at me in the dream, “You’ve been doing so good. You need to stop this complaining and work.”

Now, this is not a complaint to follow up on by the subconscious. It’s more of a story that I need to listen to that voice in my head that says to work.

I have a book out in a month, and I will promote the hell out of it for the next month and thereafter. What I will not do is complain about how hard this shit sometimes is. How hard I’m working. I want everyone to read Disunion By Force. I wrote it for me, so maybe it won’t reach the people I want it to, but I know someone will enjoy it.

They say you should write what you’d read and this is what my fourteen-year-old self would have read. It’s a book I think my biological father would like.

Gained A Level, or a few.

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I sat down the other day and wrote out all the projects I’ve written in the seven years since my family moved from Las Vegas to Ogden, Utah.

I have 10 projects either done, outlines, or ready to be written.

Four thrillers in the military/political/espionage realm and six in the horror genre.

I’ve been hard as hell on myself for the last few months. Writing these down feels like I’ve gained a level in my writing.

I’m a big gamer, and I have been since the ’80s. Looking at all this feels like I gained a level in one of my games. The fear of rejection and the fraud police will always be on my mind, but I have a date for my military/political thriller novel, November 1st. Here is the link.

But I want to thank everyone who commented on my posts over the last few months. I’m working through some things personally, and all of your support has been amazing.

I have a whiteboard above my desk, and I have all of the books I’ll be publishing until 2024 listed. There are seven with dates. I have one of the 10 I listed above out on submission. As soon as I get a reply on that, I’ll add it to the queue.

I write horror and military/political/espionage thrillers. I grew up watching horror and reading thrillers. Tom Clancy will always be my favorite in the genre, but Mark Greaney, Jack Carr, David Baldacci, Brad Thor, and Brad Taylor are my favorites right now.

Here‘s my list of what I’m currently reading.

I hope you have a good rest of your week.

Not sure where this is going.

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Over the last few weeks, I’ve thought about where I’m going with my writing. What am I doing right? What am I doing wrong?

I don’t have answers to either of those questions. I feel I put in enough time editing than I used to. I feel I’ve worked hard to overcome many of my crutch issues.

I submit when I see a call that a story will fit with. I work on my craft by reading books on writing and reading all genres of books. I’m thinking of stepping away to work on something else. Myself.

I have a novella out on submission and a thriller novel that I’ll be submitting in August, but after writing 13 novels and novellas, I’m not enjoying this. I write daily because that’s the deal my wife and I made when we left Las Vegas.

I would write and bartend a few days to make ends meet.

Anymore, I wonder if I’m helping her out enough. If I’m helping my kids enough.

Am I doing everything I can to make them happy?

There’s one thing about this I haven’t put forward often. Am I doing enough to make myself happy?

I don’t usually think about this. I used to put myself before anyone. That came from having the biological father I did. He always put himself first. I did that for years. I’ve worked hard to not be that way, but I think something was lost.

I think more about making others happy and not myself. I worry about whether others are getting what they need. I never consider what I need. It just doesn’t feel like I’m as important as everyone else. Maybe that has to do with my childhood, I’m not sure. I know this mentality has screwed up how I view my writing life.

I’m leaning towards getting the thriller submitted and seeing how it goes. Afterward, I’ll reevaluate my writing and whether I’ll write to submit, which is what I’ve done for the last seven years.

I have my story collection on Amazon and wish it would do well, but it hasn’t. After two years on Amazon and other places, I may pull it after it goes through its cycle on KU.

Today I finished a story, and it’s brutal and destructive. I don’t know what I’ll do with it right now. Probably keep it with the rest of my stories on my hard drive. I’ve worked hard on these stories. I’d like someone else to enjoy them.

I’m beginning to think I missed the turnoff somewhere. I don’t know where to go from here.