Depression and fighting to be myself.

So I’ve been depressed. You may have noticed.

It’s permeated the blog my personal life and my writing.

It started after I had too much to drink in front of my kids and got sick, so since June.

I don’t usually drink to excess like that and it freaked me out. I stopped for almost 3 months.

Wednesday night I had a drink and it felt good to have it and not care who’s going to judge me for it, I’m at the point I don’t care.

What I have done is make up rules for when I drink.

I can’t have a shot because I’m stressed. I have to deal with my shit and what’s causing me stress.

I can’t use it as medication. Which means when I’m at a family function, I won’t be drinking.

In the past, as I mentioned last week, I’ve done this. I’d drink so I could ignore how people have treated me in the past.

Now I won’t drink or I won’t attend those events.

My wife said it was okay that I wanted to drink and it’s not like I drink to get hammered.

That night in June I drank so I could deal with shit. I had people at that event that I’d either not talk to or that if I said what I really wanted too it wouldn’t go over well.

So, since that event, I’ve barely been writing. It’s not that the alcohol fueled my writing it was that my mind wasn’t there.

I was constantly worrying about drinking and how people would look at me if I went back to it.

After discussing this with my wife she said, “Don’t worry what others think. It’s more important what you think.” And that’s why I’ve been married to this amazing woman for 20 years.

She knows me better than I know myself. She understands me.

She gets it!

Since I accepted that it’s more important what I think, I’ve wrote 6,000 words in two days.

Accepting yourself for who you are, not who others want you to be for their convenience, is a breakthrough for me.

I’m having a better week and I hope you are too.

Forgetting, hating, and pushing through.

I’ve been fighting with myself lately, you may have noticed if you’ve been following the blog for a while.

Between my writing, my head, and alcohol, it’s been a constant argument.

The argument goes like this.

Head: “You need to continue to stay sober. Look at all the benefits. Better sleep, great sex(not that it was bad, but it’s been really good since I quit).

Writing: “You haven’t written well since you quit. The writing hasn’t flowed as well.”

Alcohol: “listen to the writing.”

Head: “It has to do with we haven’t been writing for us. We’ve been trying to write someone else’s way. That’s what’s wrong.”

Writing: “Maybe, but what if we put limits on alcohol. We have to have a good reason to drink, and it can’t be to dull or senses, or using it as a medication.”

Alcohol: “Don’t listen to either of them.”

Head: “It’s all about why you’re writing. It has nothing to do with the alcohol. It’s why you’re writing. Why are you writing?”

This is about the time I think, Brian, you’re having a conversation with nonexistent things.

Then I think about what’s going on in my life. I don’t know whether I’ll ever drink again. For now I’m sober and a lot of things are going well, but my writing isn’t one of them.

I think I did an outline because I was too afraid to edit. Too afraid to take time away from writing stories to fix things.

That’s a huge problem.

It’s one I’ll be fixing with the current project.

I’ve gone back to just writing. I have the outline but I know what’s in the story in my head and I’m still publishing something this year. It won’t be perfect, but I will publish.

The above conversation happens a lot.

I don’t know if it will ever go away, but I just want to write.

I hate that the conversation is happening, but it’s been almost three months since my last drink and the last couple of weeks have been the most difficult.

I’m trying to push through but some days I want to see if the alcohol helped with my writing. I know it didn’t but a part of me says it is. Which makes it more difficult.

Other than the writing issues and alcohol cravings, I’m good.

Have a good day.

Change, fixing problems, and ignoring what people say.

I don’t even know where to start with this post.

I’ve had a running commentary for things for so long I don’t know where to narrow this stuff down.

So I’ll start with the relevant things.

I’ve been trying to get past that commentary.

It starts by admitting a few things.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Words come to me when I don’t expect it and don’t come when I need them too.

This is a regular thing and I’m wondering if this is how it’s supposed to be.

The current project came out of a single thought and idea after bartending an event.

After telling myself to write an outline, I did. I thought after writing 9 books without one, I had to use an outline since none of those books are in print.

But here’s the thing, it had nothing to do with the stories. Some of them are really good.

It has to do with putting in the work.

I didn’t want to do that.

I punked out!

I would choose anything over editing. I would rather rewrite the book than figure out what was wrong with it.

It started to be a joke.

Then, after the last book, I realized I hadn’t found my voice. I didn’t know what I wanted out my writing or anything creatively.

I wanted to be published but didn’t want to do the work it entails.

I wanted the glory, so to speak, without the work.

That’s changed this last weekend.

I realized there are things I have to fix and it’s not having an outline.

Having a premise or idea about what happens is one thing. Have a rough idea of things that will happen, okay. An outline…sucks!

I will construct and idea of what is supposed to happen but planning and plotting are out the window.

I can’t. I’ve tried for three weeks and barely reached 22k, which is slow as hell for me.

Yesterday I gave up on what I had in the outline and just wrote. It was incredible!

I’ll do that from now on.

Getting comfortable

I have a tendency to stop just before things happen.

With my writing I’ll be doing good, then I back off. I don’t know why but I do.

I get into a comfortable mindset and forget that I’m supposed to be working. I’m supposed to be writing.

I told myself it wouldn’t happen again, and it hasn’t.

Something else has.

I’ve hit a point in my writing where the world I’m creating feels lived in. Feels real and it scares the hell out of me.

It’s the opposite of being comfortable, maybe.

There’s no fear but an absence of worry. I know I’ll get the project done on time. I understand where it needs to go and I’m finally comfortable with it.

I write these stories because the premise intrigues me.

I keep going with them because I made myself a promise to do it.

When I left Las Vegas four years ago I gave myself 5 years to publish a book. At the time it felt realistic.

In the next two months I’ll be doing exactly that.

The book isn’t perfect but I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it.

I’ll have more about that soon. But it will be wide and I hope you enjoy it.

Not sure what’s wrong…wait…

Yesterday I got stuck.

It’s the outline. It’s the following the outline, it trying to remain rigid with the outline and the whole thing makes me want to toss all of the 18,000 words I’ve written.

But I won’t.

I’m past doing those kinds of things.

I don’t act out in anger I think about what’s wrong and try to rectify it.

But I’m kind of to the point I wonder whether I did something wrong at some point.

I love the story and I’m trying to wrap my head around what’s gone wrong.

The truth is, I know what it is. I understand why it’s happening but it frustrates the hell out of me anyway.

I know the outline is messing with my head. I know it’s making me write things that aren’t where I want the story to go, but I continue with it because I promised myself I would use an outline.

I think those days are passed.

I’ll use it as a base but will write whatever the hell I want.

Thanks for coming to my therapy session.