A New Day Job

For the last 18 months I've been lucky enough to work part-time in the ____ field that is my day job. Money has been tight but we've had enough to get by and I've had time to write, take film classes, go to the gym and deal with some times when my son needed extra attention.

Today, however, I was offered a new better job in my field. I didn't apply for it, it just kind of fell into my lap. It's good money - more than twice what I'm making now - with good benefits, in a convenient location, with reasonable hours. There is really no way that I could turn it down. So I didn't.

Here's the weird thing. As many things as there are for me to be happy about (more money! benefits!) or worried about (less time to write, less time to get to the gym) the only thing I've really felt is some kind of weird excitement about being in an office building where I could meet a man.

What the fuck is that?

My professional future, my writing future, my finances, my health, are all about to be affected and I'm thinking about dating? Clearly I am very, very lonely.

Part of me wants to believe that this is some kind of sign that I'm going to finally meet someone but part of me thinks that a new company isn't the answer. Because I'm just the same fucked up person in a new place.

So I'm Writing... Porn

In the last two weeks I've completed exactly two short stories. Both porn. I've got deadlines coming up for real projects that I'm at various stages with but instead of working on any of them I'm writing porn. What the hell is that?

I posted them on this website I belong to where readers can leave feedback and since I've posted I watch, obsessively, for the comments. I am desperate for compliments apparently.

Now today I called in sick to work and I'd like to get some "real" writing done but I hear the porn calling me. Is some kind of writing better than no writing? Or is this just another example of what a procrastinating, failure I am.

I'm Back... Hopefully

It's been eighteen months since I've posted to this blog and almost as long since I've even thought about it. I've made some progress in that time with my writing, with my life, but I've also struggled with some huge family problems and my depression.

I was brought back today though by something very specific and very simple: A bad day. Not bad because of anything that happened but more because of what didn't, more because of what it means is still wrong with me.

I had a very small agenda today: finish a short story, go to the gym and go to a Writer's Workshop. I did NONE of those things. Instead of writing when I woke up this morning, as scheduled, I read fanfiction online. When it was time to go to the gym I read porn. And then, shortly before I was supposed to get ready for the Writer's Workshop, I started cooking and other bullshit.

Now I am here in my house, isolated and lonely, still feeling trapped by depression, procrastination and agoraphobia. I am desperate to meet new people, other writers, but even that desperation was not enough motivation for me today.

I suppose I'm here, posting to my long abandoned blog, because I feel the need to tell someone that I'm disappointed in myself. I am still not who I want to be. And now I'm a year and a half older.

I'm a disaster

My short story deadline was technically November 30th but the publisher holding the contest has a one-week grace period so I, of course, procrastinated. 

I stayed up very late on Sunday night and edited until I couldn't see anymore but neither story was ready so, at 3AM, I gave up and finally went to sleep. I slept right through my alarm the next morning and didn't open my eyes until 10:30! I ended up not going to work, which is especially bad because I only started at this place a couple months ago and I can't afford to burn bridges there.

I worked on my pieces during the day and evening on Monday but could not get them polished enough to submit. I stayed up late again but I dragged my ass to work on Tuesday because I had fucked up on Monday.

Left work early on Tuesday and went home to work. I stayed up till 3:30AM but I did get the damn stories in. Finally! Then I collapsed and tried to get three hours of sleep before I had to get up for work.

I didn't sleep through my alarm Wednesday morning but I did decide to blow off work - without telling anyone - which is particularly bad. Later in the day I e-mailed my boss that my son had a biking accident and I was in the ER with him.

I spent most of the day in bed asleep. I watched a little TV and basically felt drained and listless. I wanted to write - get moving on one of my other half started projects - but I was completely worthless.

I'm glad I got the stories in but I feel like everything else around me became such a disaster I'm wondering if it was worth it. I want to be a writer but I have to do that while staying on top of everything else.

Tomorrow I should go to work but I've already taken the day off to visit a friend. 

This may seem out of place but I feel very alone this week. Unsupported. I wish I had someone to lean on while I tried to make this transition.

- As I re-read the above I see how scattered I sound. It's exactly how I feel.

Deadline's here!

I am entering a short story contest for new writers. The deadline is tomorrow and I still haven't received editing feedback from either of the friends I gave it to. I have no one else to go over it with so I'm going to do my final edits today alone and then submit it later tonight or tomorrow.

I like the story. I've been working on it all week and I really do like it. Even if my friends don't. I know it can be better - and it's not great literature to be sure - but I'm still happy with it. 

Is it delusional to think I could actually do well in the contest?

I've also written another much shorter piece that I'm considering entering. I only wrote it a few days ago, and I wasn't writing it with the contest in mind, but I think I'd like to enter it anyway. 

I wish I could post them both here - and maybe I should just do it - but that concerns me because, one, I don't want anyone to figure out who I am, and two, I'm afraid that someone could steal them. 

Ridiculous isn't it? I vacillate between thinking I'm a complete failure and thinking that someone would want to actually steal my ideas/work.

I'm going to enter this contest even if I don't think the stories are quite finished. I have to push myself into the next stage of this process.

Daniel Danger - a new favorite of mine

I found out about this artist, Daniel Danger, through one of my most favorite things, PostSecret.

He is incredibly talented!







 Title: september

Title: Three panels -
1) We were fortunate,
2) there were no cameras, no helicopters, no sirens for our return,
3) so with a quiet kiss and a single step we had given ourselves to this place

Title:  please dont worry, when i wake up ill be something new

Where did I go... for FIVE months?!?!

I can't believe how long it's been since I posted. This is what I was afraid of. My flakiness.

To be fair to myself I have been working hard on my writing - very hard actually - and finished...
................................... the first draft of my novel,
................................................... a short story,
.................................................................half a screenplay,
..............................................................................a TV series treatment and
..................................................................................................a detailed outline of another novel...

I'm very proud of myself!

I'm back at work part-time and the transition out of the house was a little difficult but I've managed to keep writing a considerable amount of time each week. Whenever I think about my projects I can feel the excitement build in my chest. I feel extremely confident that I will actually be able to become a "real" writer and quit my day job.

That being said I am still also plagued with fear. I am about to enter my short story into a contest for new writers and I gave it to a couple of my friends to edit. One of them read it and liked it (I think) but she didn't read it with an eye towards revisions.

The other friend read the first two pages and hasn't been able to finish it. She's had it for two weeks. Now she does have a three month old baby at home with her so I realize that she is busy but the story's only 15 pages long I can't believe she can't find the time to read that. Plus she hasn't said anything positive about the first two pages. And I also can't help but think that maybe the reason she couldn't force herself to finish is that she found the first two pages awful.

I re-read my old posts and am a little disheartened that after all these months I am just as insecure about my talent and/or ability as before.

But at least I didn't stop writing...