Tag Archives: motivation

Rewiring my brain.

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I’ve recently converted to outlining. It’s been hard. There haven’t been any knocks on the door about changing, but I’ve been working on fixing the way my brain works.

Having been a pantser, discovery writer, I’ve had to funnel information into my brain differently. I also have to block my brain from yelling, “NO, YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG,” which has have been the most difficult.

Once you convert things get hard. I fight myself every day over just doing the way I used to. But it doesn’t work, like I said Monday, maybe it never really has.

I’m down a new rabbit hole. There is nothing but my the other side of my brain telling me, “you can’t go on like this and expect to get where you want to be.”

That voice is the same one I heard on a 9th grade English test. It was supposed to be a story using the spelling words, I forgot to use the words and still got an A on it.

That little voice told me to keep going.

At 23, the voice resurfaced. But I kept writing by the seat of my pants.

It’s 20 years later, and I realized something has to change.

This week I’ve been working through the fantasy book I wrote last December. I’m outlining it, as I should have done.

Trying to wrap my mind around this process after writing another way for 20 years has been difficult, but I know the book will be better this way.

Once I start the drafting process I’ll know how I’ve done.

That I had to change is one of those things you don’t understand at the time, but I know I had to do it.

I’m working my way through the books I have on outlining and beat sheets. I have a few of them. They’re helping.

I’m going through those to find my way to the end.

The point where shit ain’t working.

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I’ve reached critical mass, DEFCON 1, time to pull the holy shit handle…you know all of that.

My writing isn’t working and maybe it hasn’t been working for longer than I’m willing to admit.

The writing itself has been good, but the organization looks like my niece got ahold of crayons and paper.

Shit is all over the place!

I’ve always just written. No outline, rarely a beat sheet and it’s just not working.

I’ve rewritten whole books a couple of times because I was afraid of the outline monster.

I was worried I’d get bogged down in an outline, stop working, and just quit.

But I’m at the point of quitting right now. So why shouldn’t I take a chance on an outline?

I realized my first written draft is my outline, but a 86k+ outline is hardly workable.

It’s daunting as hell and it’s making me hate writing. I used to love sitting in the chair and creating.

Then I noticed a few things.

I was putting out a draft that had no cohesive theme or flow through, not until at least the third draft.

When my wife would ask me questions if flub through it.

The other night she asked what is motivating a certain character, I had no reply.

What the hell am I doing if I don’t know the damn motivation for what my character does?

I’ve only looked at the part where I’m sitting in the chair as the writing part. Not the thinking about the story, drawing maps or staring at screenshots which resembled the world I’d created, and definitely not an outline.

This changed over the weekend.

I thought about all the stories I’ve written. Shorts, novellas, novels and understood that whenever I’m thinking about, drawing about, or outlining, it’s still writing.

I have stories that felt too daunting to create because I didn’t understand their world and didn’t get it about the things I mentioned above.

Now as I hit the button, reset things, and journey into this new creative life, I feel blessed to have a wife who continues to stand by my side as I navigate these waters.

She’s my rock and she’s always there to tell me it’s okay. She makes sure I keep writing in whatever form it takes and I’m the luckiest man to have her.

Now on to the writing.

Exercise, Anxiety, and getting my mind right.

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I reached a breaking point.

This happened for a number of reasons. The main on being I haven’t taken care of myself lately.

I stopped working out, I’m not sure why. I wasn’t burnt out. My muscles weren’t sore or my joints, I just stopped.

Exercise, mostly weight training, has always been in my life.

My biological father did bodybuilding when I was younger and when I turned 14 he got me in the weight room.

Initially I didn’t care for it, spending most of my gym time in the pool instead of the weight room. I’ve always loved the water. It’s a Pisces thing.

As long grew older I fell in love with being in the gym. I enjoyed the feeling of the weights, the pump in my muscles and attended the Olympia on a couple of occasions.

Until recently I never associated the gym with my mental wellbeing. It was just something I did.

Then I looked at where my life was when I spent the most time in the gym or my muscles grew the most.

Those were emotional times.

In high school I used my weight training class to deal with my teenage anxiety. Never understanding then what I was doing.

In my early twenties I used it to deal with loneliness and that I was an awkward shy person.

I found comfort in the weight room. It was something I could do where my effort determined the results.

In my late twenties I used it to deal with our first miscarriage. Then in my early thirties to deal with my daughter’s early birth and first month in the NICU.

As I moved up on age I never noticed this, until now.

Most recently, I used it to deal with the death of my big brother.

When I struggle most I return to the weight room. That’s what I’m beginning again.

It’s another way to deal with anxiety, my writing frustrations, and just with every day life issues.

It has never failed in getting my mind right. It never failed in adjusting my attitude or my mindset.

TM keeps my mind in good shape, but with the combination of TM and exercise everything fires on all cylinders.

I’m back in the gym because I realized it keeps my mind more focused when I do it.

I may not thank my biological father for much, but a love of the weight room will always be one of them.

Have a good weekend.

Get shit done, have some fun, and keep going.

Alcohol, Confusion, and…Sobriety?

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For the last year sobriety has been on mind.

Maybe it’s because I feel I have a genetic predisposition to alcoholism or that I feel it’s interfered with my writing and family life too much.

Either way, it’s been a detrimental to how I conduct myself.

It’s awfully hard to get words on the page when you’re sick, your skull is pounding and the slightest sound turns you into Thanos, ready to snap the wife and kids into oblivion.

I feel that I’ve been more confused lately about things. They’re not clicking.

I’ve given myself a break from alcohol to see if that’s the cause and it may be. We shall see.

I’ve had moments as a kid when I’d seen family members intoxicated and thought, I’ll never do that.

Then we grow up and it happens. I’m uncomfortable with that.

My kids saw me the way I’ve seen others and it upset the hell out of me.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be completely abstinent in regards to alcohol but it has moved down the ladder of requirements.

I’ve used it to buffer emotional and physical pain as well as a stress reducer.

Yes I’m a TM(Transcendental Meditation) practitioner and will continue to be so but there are moments that stir things and I reach for a bottle to deal with it.

I know and understand I shouldn’t do this but it’s a reaction I’ve had for most of my adult life.

I’m trying to get to a better place emotionally, physically, and creatively. I don’t feel alcohol is needed for me to do that.

I’ll come out the other side with more understanding of my mental state and my writing.

Frustration, Anxiety, and Writing.

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There are few things that ruffle my feathers more than trying to figure out my writing.

But hey, that’s where I’m at.

I have a book in the cosmos being queried, another with problems I’m trying to solve and I’m wondering if I’m doing this wrong.

Did I do something wrong in the writing and it’s frying circuits? Is there some magically gibbon or deity I’m not praying to?

I doubt any of that but I also know when it comes time to edit, I get really fucking nervous. I get severe anxiety from editing and revising.

It’s bad enough that right now my hands are shaking and my brain feels like it could explode out of my head. Left to float in the ether for all time.

I know those thoughts are bad and my wife tells me I have to get through them. I can’t keep rewriting the stories. That doesn’t solve the issues with the story it only prolongs those issues and at some point I’ll have to deal with them. But I really don’t want to.

I’m a discovery writer and I’ve written all but 1 of 9 books without a beat sheet or outline. I’m wondering if I may have to deal with that, bite the metaphorical bullet and do an outline for every project.

I see other writers take a few months to do an outline. For me, taking two months away from writing to work on an outline for a story I could be writing freaks me out.

I’m frustrated. I don’t know what to do so I’m throwing this out there even if I look at it a couple of months down the road when I’ve figured this shit out and laugh.

But I honestly feel stuck, frustrated, and bewildered by the lack of traction I’m getting.

I’ve thought about shutting down the blog for a while but it’s felt like an online confessional lately.

I guess I need that.

I’m trying to figure this shit out but damn, right now I don’t know.

I’ve thought about quitting a lot lately. More that I have in a long time.

I feel like it’s not going anywhere and I don’t know why.

I like the jazzed feeling of writing but right now I don’t know what to do.

Anyway, happy Monday. Kick some ass, take some names, and get shit done.