It’s November where I am.
I realize that might be a strange statement, normally people tell you the season when they allude to being in a different geographical location to your own but I like to break the mold.
Heck for all I know you’re reading this from a different dimension. One where Lincoln didn’t get shot and went on to outlaw Novembers because they didn’t agree with his stovepipe hat. Or you’re picking this up from a different planet with a whole other way to measure time. Shit, you’re probably even just super nihilistic and have decided that chronology holds zero meaning because all it’s doing is helping you gauge how many seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades and scores of years you’ve wasted waiting for your meat suit to expire.
But despite all that, it’s still November where I am.
And because it’s November, I’ve shifted my priorities a fair bit in regards to my writing.
I have been in a funk you see. Not the kind with the afro and the tight bell-bottoms with the really low buttoned shirt, but rather the one where you sit and stare blankly out the window wondering why.
Which is a terrible thing when you don’t even know what you’re questioning because you start to make it up.
Why write, why clean, why go to the gym, why eat, why sleep, why wake up, why go to work, why not drink, why not lay down and stare up.
And I wish that I knew how I got out of it. Christ do I wish I had the answer. One day I just got fucking sick of it and switched it off in my head and it was around the start of November that this happened.
Mentally I have been very very well since then and the reason I wish I had the answer is that I would love to give it to others because it’s horrible enough to live it let alone see others living it.
But back to more upbeat shit. I’ve been writing. A lot.
I have a daily word target and a plot outline for a new short story and it’s currently belching forth out of my skull like a Hollywood volcano. You know, the ones that Pierce Brosnan and Tommy Lee Jones can easily outrun at a steady trot. Not a real one that just fucks shit up in an instant.
It’s an easily achievable target and I’m enjoying writing the story. All is well in the world.
And being that I think I’m onto a good thing I’m sticking with the characters from my previous story Hell & Back which is still available for sale on Amazon here.
It’s just had a small price drop so why not get on it? What have you got to lose?
I’m not entirely sure when the next instalment of the Wilson Families escapades will be done but I am looking damn forward to editing and finishing it off for you all to enjoy. Or hate. And throw rotten fruit at me because of how bad it is.
You know what, I had a little think about it just now and I think I’ve pin pointed why I’m so gung-ho about the writing again.
First, I’ve shut down my personal bookface page. Christ was that a time drain.
Second, I started reading again.
Third, I’ve prioritised my time, no more procrastinating.
And fourth and final, some of the stuff I’ve been reading is from Amazon Kindle. And I won’t tell you what it is but it is awfully written. Great concept but just horrible writing.
And it was a number one best seller…
Kind of gives a crappy writer hope when you think about it.
p.s. I wasn’t reading my own work from Amazon, that only ever got up to 4th in one category.