Category: Blogs

The Plan

The plan to salvage my book and sanity. Basic, but it’s a start.

Write.

That’s the plan; write. It seems simple. What many don’t know is that I have a hard time taking my own advice and I have taken every avenue to avoid doing just that.

I am willing to admit impatience makes up the lion’s share of the blame. Throughout this journey to become a serious writer with hopes to become a full fledge author, I have wanted that New York Time’s best seller since yesterday, ten years ago.

The entitled millennial I want it now spirit reared it’s ugly head and for a time I considered quitting. My drafts were trash and I begin to question if I had it. I have yet to define the “it”.

The goal is to write more frequently and to simply take it easy on myself, and I have decided to take 2022 head on and carve out time to develop my skill. I begin even if the idea or the thought isn’t fully developed, the ideas are there. It is putting them on the screen that shows the disconnect.

I’ve discovered that chasing the perfect first draft has always been my Achilles’ heel. I have learned that it is okay; every idea or plot isn’t meant to be a trilogy or HBO series. You have to write in order to get the sludge out of the way and hit black gold-or rather the literary jackpot. I am learning the process takes time.

Trusting the process is hard but trusting myself is the hardest thing I have ever done.

Window Seat

I can hear the birds here as I watch Helios and Gaea kiss for the first time.

It’s before coffee.

It’s before the caffeine clouds my thoughts stimulating me while pushing them in every direction opposite of creativity.

Passions are diverted as I’m reminded that I have to go back.

I can’t dwell here, not tomorrow.

I am not afforded another day.

I don’t hear the sounds of Life there. Not over the clicking of the keys and the sighs of defeat.

The constant interruptions, hisses of deadlines and overdue reports; things that only further push me away from reality.

I am relying on lies now as I coerce myself into returning day after day.

I don’t like it here.

The people demand too much and understand too little.

Depression

It comes out of the blue bringing with it Darkness and dread; I hoped it would stop, give me some reprieve

I’ve given enough. I’ve given everything

When it comes, it arrives like a quiet Alabama storm, I can only huddle like a small child. I am afraid of this darkness, terrified of what it can bring, the thoughts it has brought with it before.

But It never comes alone.

Depression always brings friends, its posse; Hopelessness, Unworthiness, and Dread. They stand patiently as the table is being set. Quietly, they take their seat ready for tea time as they sip on my emotions and dine on my sanity leaving only scraps.

Desperately, I fumble around stitching pieces together trying to find enough that I can use to function as I go about my day pretending that I am whole.

That I’m okay.