Somehow, September and October blew up and I ended up in November.
I meant to put down my thoughts about the Dark Tower III: The Waste Lands (which was nothing but good, if you care to know), but the simple fact of life seems to happen and time got away from me.
September was franticness. Frantically finishing my first submission to Writer’s of the Future and the Whitefish Review. Frantically applying for jobs I think I should be working because I have a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I’m not where I should be in life. Fighting through the feeling of being inadequate because I haven’t created something fundamentally important to my generation.
My two novels took a beating. It seems that if I don’t write consistently every day, a certain brand of laziness steals over me. I end up surfing the web or reading reviews about things I’m mildly interested in. I get home from work, mind bursting with all the things I want to write that I made up on the commute, and then get distracted by a few blogs I’m following, the newest Supernatural or American Horror Story episode, researching how to make top notch curry, and then BAM! A whole month’s gone by and I haven’t written a true word.
It’s incredibly frustrating. I sit and reread what I’ve written before, trying to reenter that mindset, but it’s like I’m drained dry and there’s nothing but a stressful hollowness that’s left.
October was a social month. I got promoted to full time and got a title change. We have five top priority clients that I can thank for that. I suppose my skills have to count in there somewhere. It astounds me how I can focus seven hours of undivided attention to the computer screen, moving from project to project, writing magazine copy, brochure content, kicking out words for the firm when I can barely strangle out fifty at home for my own story.
I keep trying to dig deep and find that motivation to get shit done, but I keep falling short. I’m trying to get better. Find a better balance. Closing all the tabs, block out time, and truly pursue this. I find it’s harder than it seems. Or maybe I’m losing my steam at an early age.
Whatever the case, I ended up getting home at 7pm on Halloween, had my haunted house plots foiled, and to make up for the disappointment, enthusiastically supported the candy industry by giving out copious handfuls of sweets to trick o’ treaters while settling into a series of disturbing movies as a consolation prize.
I was wearing my sweats when I answered the door, and an adorable seven year old alien took her Snickers bars and M&M’s when a big gappy grin and said, “Thanks! You’re pretty.”
Man, never underestimate the power of a kind word.
I love Halloween. I’m sure half the population says that sentiment, but hey, what’s true is true. Nature topped its hat off to the day in the early morning when I rounded a hill going a customary 70 mph and saw a true layer of low laying fog floating above a field, literally like a ghost. The moon was pale and fading in the sky and a set of black birds flew across in a V. I got shivers because it was so classic.
I’ve started reading Gail Carriger’s Changeless (Parasol Protectorate #2) because it’s so sweet and gummy like children after Halloween when they’re all high on sugar. The next Writers of the Future submission is two months away and I have an idea and barely one paragraph put together for it. I’ve got another submission in the works, and hope to have that out by the end of the month as well. We’ll see. I make a lot of promises to myself.
But at least I’ve updated you, O Faithful Reader.