Tag Archives: motivation

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.

When we know what works and what doesn’t.

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For the last three weeks I’ve been trying to outline.

I’ve read through the books I have on the subject and the ones I have about beat sheets.

This week I reached a point where reality smacked me in the face. I stared at what I had and tried to write from the outline, then it started to go in another direction.

This is what always happened when I was writing into the dark. But I know this story.

I wrote it as a short story last year. I always wanted to turn it into a novel. My writing group didn’t like the story. It was too dark, too disturbing.

I think that’s why I wrote the fantasy novel.

They write fantasy and sci-fi, I’ve said how much I struggle to write in those genres.

But they didn’t get the story, they don’t read horror.

I was trying to placate them, but in doing that I stopped doing what I enjoyed, horror.

But back on track to the point of this.

I’ve tried really hard over the last three weeks to pull this off and the writing is terrible.

It feels stilted and boring. And the biggest thing of all, I haven’t been having fun.

I usually enjoy my time in the chair. The last three weeks felt like torture.

Yesterday, I wanted to try something out.

An experiment if you will.

I started writing, putting the outline away, and I busted out a bunch of words and it was fun.

I understand I write this way for a reason. It feels comfortable and I don’t worry about sticking to an outline.

I know this story, so maybe that’s why I’m having an easier time. I know what happens and when. I know the ending, understand the characters and love the scary parts.

When I get a new idea maybe I’ll outline that, but for now, with this story, I’ll write it like this.

I also realized that it hasn’t been the drafting part I’m horrible at, it’s the editing.

I even asked questions on Reddit about it.

Understanding where my writing fails is important. It gives me something to work towards. It allows me to improve.

I write into the dark, discovery write, or pantsing because that feels most comfortable when I’m drafting a story. But when it comes to editing, I suck.

Now I know the problem and I’ll be working on fixing it.

These last three weeks also took me back into the pit of depression. That’s a place I’ve fought to stay out of.

I’ve been stressed over this outline business more than anything in a long time. Now I’m moving forward, my way, because I have to.q

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