Tag Archives: Writing

Reaching a new point of writing awareness.

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As I wrote on Monday, I’ve learned to understand the process.

Like every kind of relationship, when you get to the right one, you understand why the others never worked.

That’s how I’ve felt over the last week and half.

I built the foundation of the relationship, found common ground, and constructed a blueprint for how to move forward.

I wouldn’t say my process was broken before it just wasn’t the process I needed for my writing.

Now I’m on the real work of the outline.

I’ve created scenes, learned about characters, and quite a bit about myself.

Throughout, I’ve begun to understand the flaws in my other books and why they just weren’t there. It wasn’t that they weren’t good stories, it’s that I didn’t understand how to create the blueprint for them.

Today I’ll spend my time with the outline. Creating things and finding out what is the best use of each set piece, each section of foreshadowing and how to do it properly.

I’m moving forward and that a good thing. I’m still planning on starting the drafting process in October. It will be a Halloween gift to myself.

Happy writing and always keep writing.

There’s this thing about outlines…

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I always wondered why outlines work for some people but not for me.

I think I cracked the code.

I had a story idea that’s been floating around for a while, six weeks something like that.

A week and a half ago I got out my notebook and started plotting.

I’ve never enjoyed it until this last week and I figured out why.

Before I’d always had either a finished draft or a few chapters written.

This time, I let it breathe. Gave it some room and sat back and let my mind wander on the story.

What I’ve found is I’m pretty good at it and it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

I’m still working through the outline and hope to start drafting in October

I’m not sure I’ve ever had this much fun writing.

I’m still doing the same thing(discovering the story) but it’s more intricate and I feel better about what the final product will be.

It’s going good and I’m having fun.

Outlining and playing Warcraft Classic

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Outlining and getting things done. That’s all I can think of to write, oh, and there’s this little game called World of Warcraft Classic, that may be the reason this is shorter than my regular posts, but nah.

Anyway, have a good weekend and get things done. I’m bartending this weekend and making some Jerk chicken in the smoker on Monday for Labor Day.

Writing for you, skipping out, and gathering in a storm.

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After writing Monday’s post I thought more about the person I write for.

The kid whose parents don’t let them read what they want, the twenty-something writer that only wants to get their foot in the door, the writer and reader I am today.

The kid is the easiest to write for because without restrictions they can read anything.

The twenty-something is a bit more difficult because they want they’re writing to mean something, but they also want to have fun while writing.

The writer and reader I am today is the most difficult.

They’re the person in the mirror and I feel unsure about how to help that person.

Do I write something truly terrifying that maybe an agent may enjoy, or do I write something just to say I have something published?

I think this conundrum bears further exploration and may lead my writing to better places.

It’s difficult for me to write things where it’s truly terrifying because I still worry about judgment. I know I shouldn’t because in the end it’s my name on the book and not the judgmental person but I still worry.

There’s this thing running through my head where I see everyone judging me based upon what I write. It’s the main reason it took me so long to stick with horror.

I’m a dark soul, I always have been. And in that darkness I find solace, peace, and freedom.

It’s why I struggle with depression. It’s why I’ve struggled with alcohol(1 month 4 days sober today)and it’s why I need to just say fuck it and write the darkest and most disturbing story I can.

In that story I feel I’ll find the person who should be writing these stories instead of the person pretending to write.

When I write I feel the world stops. When I write it’s like a dream and I’m within the construct of the world.

Without that edging of my dreams I’d be lost and without the writing and darkness I’d never find my way out.

I keep writing and this time I’ll go the darkest I can and see what slithers out of the nether. It’s in the darkest recesses the writer I know I’m meant to be is hiding.

He’s only afraid to make and entrance.

It’s in the bleakest of moments and darkest of storms we find ourselves.

The storm is still there, it hasn’t passed. I believe it’s only waiting for my decision.

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.