“To everybody I replied: “Go away, you make me nervous.”
–John Barleycorn Jack London
I’m pioneering myself into a new dimension of writing, perhaps one that nobody has gone into before. Would you like to come with me on the adventure? I’m going to pull myself out of this darkness and rise like a Phoenix in a triumphant victory over all things pulling me down.
After achieving a sort of clarity after drying myself out from alcohol (which isn’t as easy as you might think), my brain went directly to the keys on my laptop and wanted to dance. They wanted to create beautiful miniature ballets for the world to absorb and escape into. Little daydreams in increments of 1,000 words a piece. I am not Jack London, however, I do admire him and his work, and instead of worshiping the writers that I have in the past, I’m going to take to good old JL for inspiration. Jack London wouldn’t do a single thing in the morning until he had written at least 1,000 words. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but until you sit at a keyboard and try to squeeze them out, you really don’t know.
My goal, over the next year, is to be like a little Jack London and write at least 1,000 words a day and most the articles on my WordPress blog site (uh this one, duh). Some of you that have been with my blog for a long time might remember when I was doing a fundraiser for the “Great American Red Shark Adventure”, and had a link where you could donate to the trip. I’m going to do that again and grant anyone who donates to the cause the password to get into the special daily site. There could be anything posted anyday to begin with, but I want to make a weekly schedule and have a different topic every day. Such as Monday will be about cars, Tuesday will be about Mental Health, Wednesday will be about Travel, Thursday will be about daily life, I’ll have Fiction Friday, Saturday in the news, and Sunday a freeforall.
All monies that are accrued will be split in half, with one half going to the struggling writer and the other half going to NAMI (National Alliance for Mental Illness)
Click the link below to make a donation/purchase. I’ll send you the password, and the donation will be valid for a year after purchase. Send what you think is fair, a dollar a day would be pretty nice, but hey, even a penny a day is something! Help me help you enjoy life through the eyes of a girl that is keeping herself away for the “adventure path and brain maggots”. Clean living is good living!
***Did you know Jack London was born into poverty in the slums of San Fransisco***
There was a time in my life that I would crave the sweet feeling of the keys under my fingers as I would flutter myself through a magazine article, writing a book, or even just composing a passionate email to a special somebody. Those times I cherish in my mind, sort of like fuzzy holiday family time memories, recounting every detail of the environment. My favorite place to chug away at, say, a writing project was at the big old dining room table, at the head of the table, peering out into the black night. I’d always write at night, when everybody had gone to bed, it would be my special time.
***Did you know Jack Londons mother tried to kill herself twice while carrying Jack in the womb. The first tried Laudanum (a liquid morphine) to overdose to no avail, then tried to shoot herself in the head, only for the gun to malfunction.
There were times that I leaned on my ability to compose words to soothe my soul a little bit too heavy and it seemed more like a chore. Pressures to get newsletters done would make those sweet keys seem like nails that would pierce me with every keystroke. There were also periods of time that I didn’t even want to write articles because I was timid about getting the feedback from my editors. The criticizing words would be like daggers to my writing personality. Instead of being a fluid thinking writer – I turned into a choppy, unorganized writer that was about as washed up as a Billy Baldwin sitcom.
“Wander with me through one mood of the myriad moods of sadness into which one is plunged by John Barleycorn.”
Jack London, John Barleycorn
That period of time, I am forever going to refer to as my “personal B side” (for those of the younger, square generation, this is a reference to the “B” side of a racord, where you would typically find the songs that have good bones, but not quite catchy enough to be radio worthy.) My personal “B” side was directly caused by John Barleycorn himself, aka: Liquor. At first it was a little, I would pour myself a glass of bourbon while I say at my laptop and worked on either BMW tasks or planning my next big adventure. I’d submit my articles, post on the website, or just archive ideas and flow charts of the next big writing idea. I’d pour that first glass of bourbon (or on occasion Scotch, or Rum, or…well, you get the point) and the creative juices would start flowing like syrup from a sugar maple. I was on it, my words were weapons, my mind agile, and my hopes and dreams for my future were bright.
****Did you know Jack was arrested as a vagrant while being on the “adventure path”, riding the rails, toiling around the big country and seeing whatever was aside the tracks. When he was arrested, they kept him in the lockup for a month and after getting released, Jack returned back to California.
Then life got complicated – details not necessary – but just imagine being on one of those carnival rides that spin in a circle and also spins the car you’re in through smaller circles, all the while going up and down. Trying to get your bearings and your mind straight while constantly spinning is almost impossible, but then try doing that while pickling your liver every day by pouring some foul tasting (most of the time) liquid down your throat? The elixir of life, I was convinced it would bring me back to facing front and getting back on tract to achieving my goals. I’m not embarrassed to say, I turned into a full blown almost dysfunctional alcoholic. I’m not proud to say it, either, but I turned that around.
“These are two of the deadliest drinking habits: regular drinking and solitary drinking”
John Barleycorn Jack London
Towards the end of my personal “b” side, I started stretching for help and answers in books, meetings, and even therapy. All of them said I needed an outlet, sadly my brain couldn’t comprehend what it meant to sit still and not be seeking my next drink. I started small, by reading a book. John Barleycorn was my pick, primarily because I was curious as to what the hell it was. I knew it was something referring to drink, but there had to be more about it. The book, writen in 1913 could have very well been my personal memoir, however, I am female and instead of cannerys and dry cleaners to work in, I went through wringers of different Nurseries, schooling and pharmacies. He was milling about life, following his adventure path, trying to find his niche in the world. This was his personal life story, he poured out his ugly inner thoughts and experiences, and I can almost assure you that it was a more therapeutic project to him to write that book as apposed to something that would actually provide him more wealth in later years.
“I am. I was. I am not. I never am.”