That moment between

I re-read this today as a reminder. Nearly two years has passed.

Wendigo Mountain

Lately, like a lot of us, I’ve been sleeping too much. Drinking too much. Passing the hours in my own way, listening to music, reading, cleaning up the house, and feeling almost paralysed by the stress of uncertainty. Stuck at home. Ordering carry out dinners, or cooking things for myself and later throwing them out once they’ve outlived their appeal in my sparsely populated fridge. Writing. More writing. Sometimes about important things, and sometimes about nothing anyone will read, but that is what pays. Ironic. Not that the important things will get read either, it’s just if I ever want to be remembered for something I hope it is for my prose and not for my 300 word-vomit on cash auto title loans or off-road bumpers.

The coffee makes the brain work. The shower gets the blood flowing. The alcohol slows it all back down again late at night so…

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Sometimes the writing is easy

In the last several weeks, I have posted about massive word counts, major steps taken in writing the books, and even paid writing assignments. Then there are the edits, which I have been knocking out a chapter per day on average. Some of it is very exhausting. Today, I got some writing done, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind I wasn’t doing enough.

This morning, I got an idea for a short story, which fought me like a wildcat to be put into my notebook. It started off with probably the first five hundred words of the story too as well as a rough outline of where it wanted to take me. It’s about a writer living in the old west, which actually takes place in the same universe as my book, Song of the Cinder. I also wrote a post about writers block, which seems to be the opposite of what I have right now. Only, I am blocked…more on that later.

I didn’t touch edits, and for that I’m a little disappointed in myself. It’s not a race and sometimes I need to remind myself of that.

Then I wrote around 300 words on the final book. But it was an idea that just wouldn’t let go. Something I’ve been thinking about all weekend. A concept which is both sweet and agonizing at the same time. In the process of editing, I know I can’t just switch completely to editing. It’s all organic, with edits creating new places in the story that need to be explored or reduced. Right now it is happening as it wants to happen.

Today I was a little blocked, in spite of what it sounds like. My main block comes from guilt of writing what I need to write and writing what I have to write. The need is the book, that is a story that is undeniable. The have-to is working on enough paid assignments so I can pay bills and not starve to death. They haven’t been selling all that well lately, and part of that is just because it is March/April. Typically a slow month for sales. So when I don’t write for them, I feel obligated to write for pay or build up my reserves because I have obligations. Mostly lots of lawyers with their hand in my wallet. Then the story gets pissed off because it needs to be finished. And then I get depressed because I am falling deeper into debt and running out of money and the debts just keep piling up. And due to some fuckery my ex-wife pulled on taxes, I’ve gone 60 days without getting my tax refund. Which I kinda need to live. The IRS website is no help at all.

So at the end of the day, I have bills, and a sink full of dishes, and nothing edited. But I did write today, which was good. That helped unfreeze me a little bit. The hardest part is not being able to see how your life can get better than it has been for the last eight years. It seems stagnant, like the only reason I exist is to make money for someone else who the courts have allowed to become dependent. That is paralyzing. And the more you make, the more they take.

With gas prices so high, it’s hard to plan a trip anywhere to put on the travel blog. Not to mention having zero funds thanks to the tax situation. I can’t even afford to print business cards right now.

Tomorrow is a new day, and I plan on wearing my write-for-pay hat. I have deadlines, after all.

It’s no wonder I have a hard time sleeping some nights.