All this time and no new post. Seems you have to have something of value to say… figured that I didn’t so why waste anyone’s time, right? Not that I have anything remarkable or earth shattering to say now. Checking in, exorcising demons… flexing the brain in hope that the muses come back.
And they already have… more on that in a minute.
Been an eventful year thus far. Working steadily for the past seven months (unlike this time last year), finished my first novel, saw my eldest daughter pass her state boards to become a certified nursing assistant after she paid for 80% of her tuition, saw my youngest daughter get accepted into one of the most prestigious acting schools on the planet and last, but not least, have completely transformed my body from a 265lb blob to a 230lb (and dropping), leaned-out dude with one last layer of fat hiding a six-pack that I NEVER thought would be seen on this body in this lifetime.
It occurred to me less than five minutes ago that I may have missed my calling. Did the rock / r&b drummer thing (loved it, miss it!), me and Excel are tighter than pantyhose two sizes too small but accounting is a bit, well, soulless. I love, love, LOVE writing!
Expected a “but”, didn’t you? No buts on that one, I love to write! Still determining the difference between writer and storyteller because I don’t like to use a lot of words. I often feel inadequate because my style is so raw and lean compared to the average author. On the other hand, my readers (the ones I’ve discussed this with) think that it sets me apart. I liken my style to The Atkins Diet: all protein, no carbs. But I digress to…
We won’t even get into it. Nope, don’t ask cause I damn sure won’t tell.
“No more self-imposed deadlines” is my mantra for 2012. Not a new year’s resolution because… wait.
Yeah, it is a resolution, huh? Sigh.
That’s me. Zero confidence in my writing. Not writer’s block. Creating content isn’t the problem. Reread my recent work on Chapter 20 and it was garbage.
It was a rushed four-paragraph, section of a first draft. In other words, it should have been garbage.
Wanted to finished in October, work on the second draft through the end of the year. Didn’t quite work out as planned.
…and that’s alright!
“Akil, I went to my first book signing today.”
“What? I didn’t know you finished the book!”
-Conversation between my brother and I on Sunday night.
Never been to a book signing before but my old friend Kat (feel free to like her Facebook page here) works with an author named Colette Freedman who had two signings in the L.A. area this past weekend to support her week-old release, The Thirteen Hallows. I forgot about Friday’s event in Pasadena but Kat was kind enough to text me on Saturday night with a reminder about Sunday afternoon’s event in Burbank. I agreed to go and then looked up Colette’s bio…
Almost had an anxiety attack five minutes later.
I hate missing deadlines. It’s embarrassing. Unprofessional. Hate missing self-imposed deadlines even more than those agreed to with someone else. Why? Makes me feel like I lied to myself, and I don’t like lying to myself. Feel dishonest afterwards.
Planned to finish my first draft a couple of weeks ago. Sounded good but I didn’t come close. Was on a great roll until Chapter 18… two months-plus and counting as of last Monday. TWO. MONTHS. PLUS!
Knew the job would slow me down but damn if I haven’t visited, hung out with, taken to dinner, treated, tried to spend time with all the friends who kept my spirits up while I was unemployed. No complaints, mind you. My people will tell you I’m a very loyal friend. It was time to get back to work, is all.
Went to pull the trigger, nothing happened. Misfire.
And then I read about a book on Jeff Goins writing site called “The War of Art”. Jeff has become my writing mentor, been taking his online blogging class and I can see improvement since checking him out. The text on the cover reads, “Break through the blocks and win your inner creative battles.” See, I didn’t think I was blocked, I thought I was busy, big difference! But Jeff swore by it so that’s all I needed to hear. Took me a few days to track it down at the local B&N but I did.
The book’s author labels anything that stands between you and your creativity as Resistance. Made sense, easy read. My eyes were opened. And then they tried to roll out of my head and onto the floor when I reached the following page:
That last post wore me out. So sick, sick, sick of That Story That Shan’t be Named, need a dose of “light and breezy” for sanity’s sake. Have one in mind that’s disturbing yet humorous, a suitable antidote to last week’s poison. Must ask a qualifying question first:
Ever walked in on your parents having sex?
If the answer is “yes”, then EWWWWW! THAT MESS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME, SO “HA”! I did hear my mother having sex once. Shit scarred me for life.
I was 20.