Coming to terms with addiction and finding my way.

As I said on Wednesday, a game took away from my writing time.

Oddly enough, this initially happened when I went sober the end of July.

I swapped one addiction for another.

Instead of blinding myself with alcohol, I shut the world off and buried myself in leveling a character online.

This led me to taking up the bottle again the end of October.

I did this for many reasons but mainly because I have always needed to bury my emotions.

It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.

As a teenager, I would keep to myself, not wanting to let the world know how depressed I was. That led to issues with relationships in high school.

I wasn’t mature enough to handle a relationship with myself, much less another person.

Thankfully, as I got older, met my wife, who has kept me safe from my worst tendencies, I was able to understand a few of those things.

But there was always something to subvert, numb, or chasten myself with.

It was either drowning myself in a bottle, burying myself in the pages of a book, delving into online games. In my blindness to these things I kept myself safe from pain.

I was obliterated at times because of family problems.

The bottle has been there since my late teens.

The feeling that one thing gave me led me to run off the tracks and nearly destroyed my marriage.

I try to keep myself safe and I have a tendency to bury myself in things that aren’t as good for me as I would like them to be; the bottle, video games, and other distractions.

I feel it’s necessary to bury myself in one thing that will help me get through all of this. My writing.

Writing gives me a similar high as alcohol, without the side effects.

I have this tendency to latch onto something and it can control and affect my entire world.

I’ve chosen to latch onto my writing and work it for all I can.

I’m sober again and though I’ve fallen I got myself back up.

I pick up the pieces and find new things daily. This journey will lead me to better places and better states of mind. Both of which are needed.

I’ll do my best to write for myself and will continue to write this blog.

The words are important and the message is as well.

I hope you’ll continue to read, continue to follow me on other platforms, but this is where I intend to spend my time.

I have Twitter and Instagram, but I’d rather use this blog. It gives me a bigger space and on days like today I need that.

I let myself down.

The last five months of 2019 I didn’t write as much or read as much as I should’ve.

My focus left me because of a game.

I don’t know why I let it control those last few months, but I did.

It took control of who I wanted to be. What I wanted to accomplish and I became detached from all of those things.

I realized that I had to do better for myself.

Besides my wife and kids, my writing is the most important thing in my life.

It’s changed how I deal with society. It’s caused me to reevaluate my depression. I no longer look at it with a singular moniker of, “depression.”

There are many subtle levels of depression and they take over parts of my writing and how I deal with the day-to-day machinations of it.

In the end we are at the mercy of what we focus on though I finished a novel during those five months–I’ve determined that it’s quite good–I also learned a lot about myself and why the littlest distractions can detour my writing as well as the balance within my brain.

I’m determined to get something out that can be read by everyone as well as to continue posting on here.

I still have queries out with three agents and when I hear something, good or not, I’ll let you know.

Happy writing and enjoy the rest of your week.

Cold wind

There’s this cold wind.

It blows through the trees, stops at an orchard, gives the fruit a kiss and moves across the road.

It stretches down the hill, rolls through the lawn, brushing the dog on the corner’s black coat.

The dog yelps and runs away.

The cold wind doesn’t stop.

Its tendrils push through my coat while I shovel the walk.

It’s blue and grey and floats around me for a minute.

I stop what I’m doing, waiting for it to move on.

The wind stays. My bones are still cold.

Fixing my editing issues.

A while ago I read that an author has their computer read their novel back to them.

I found the idea interesting and began doing the same thing with my short stories and the novel I finished in November.

What’s happened is nothing short of an epiphany.

Hearing what I’ve written has made a difference in how I approach editing and the next writing project.

I wish I’d had figure this out sooner.

I listen to it and hear it differently than I would read it.

I know I’m supposed to read it out loud, but my voice is my own. It won’t change anything how I see it. A different voice is required.

I’ll never be able to edit another way after this.

Have a good week and I’ll talk to you Wednesday.

Day by day…

There is this thing I have a problem with and it needs to be solved.

It’s editing and planning/plotting.

The first part is the hardest since I actually hate, loath, despise(you know, those feisty words)editing.

But there’s this thing I need to do this year. I have to publish and at this point it’s something I have to do for my sanity.

As to plotting/planning, I’ve learned the hard way that rewriting draft after draft doesn’t work. It just pisses me off.

I know better. Or at least I like to think after 43 years I should.

These two things throw off my progress, traction, and screw up my head.

I will continue to post on here because it’s cathartic. I know you’re all tired of hearing about my editing issues. I’ll put that to bed this year.

Happy writing.

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