“The only way I could finish a book and get a plot was just to keep making it longer until something happens. ”
I’ve been greatly influenced lately by something other than my old friend, booze. (insert gasp here).
I know, I know, it gets old after a while, reading about my opinion on things and the adventures that I have. To be fair, I’ve had quite a few of them in my time, and I like to let people live vicariously through my reckless abandonment of rationality. It seems to be very gonzo of me, to embellish the honest goings on of my mundane life. As Hunter S Thompson once said, “it never went fast enough for me”, which is how I felt for quite some time, especially when looking for something to write about. It led me down a path of self absorbed urgency and bad decisions. It led to stories that I never wrote about, because, well, life indeed got too fast for me.
Now it’s going at a snails pace and nothing exciting really happens to me, or at least, nothing anybody would want to read about. I guess it might be the big 34 creeping up on me, maybe it’s the fact I haven’t driven in a year. It might just be the fact that I felt I saw my viewer count drop, so my assumption was that people stopped caring. I got a random email once in a while asking when my next post was going to be, and well, I didn’t know so I didn’t respond. I left everyone hanging, all three of my fan club.
I wrote my book 18 Wheels, A Road Trip Through The Mind, and nobody bought it, or read it. It dehumanized me and I felt like a failure at writing, so I quit. I mindlessly worked my job, every once in a while with a spark of inspiration to write, but did nothing about it. I looked at my draft folder maybe once a week, but opened none of the files. I skimmed through the manila envelopes of organized material that I have saved to write the Great American Red Shark adventure, but did nothing. I made a conscience effort to write something after my good friend Ken Kanne fell ill and I set up a go fund me account (which he could still use help, visit the donation page here). My site sat blank and the money didn’t roll in. I felt bad, I wasn’t helping Ken out much, but then again, I wasn’t helping myself either.
A turd, I felt like a turd that had been floating in the toilet of attempts for too long. I was stagnant.
Now, the urge to flush the attempts down the toilet is strong. The urge to hop back on the writing horse is there, and I’m pulling myself up by my hard trodden boot straps. I’ve pouted long enough, it’s time to type. I’ve been investing too much time in playing The Sims and not enough time typing. I’ve got to start somewhere. The time is now, the place is here.
After writing 18 Wheels, A Road Trip Through The Mind (which you can buy here) the idea was to have a recurring project, getting through all 18 categories of our hero, the truck driver, emotional trauma. Good news, I’ve got #18 done, and I’d like to publish it, however, I’ve got stage fright. I’d like to have some feedback from those that have read the first one as to the input as to what should appear in the next in the series.
I understand not everyone uses the Amazon platform, so, if you’d like a copy sent to you pdf or word doc, I can certainly hook you up. This writing thing is my “sort of secret” way of raising fun money. You know, the kind of money you spend when you’re on a adventure.
Give yourself a moment to ponder, would you rather spend a half an hour scrolling through stupid shit on FaceInstaTweet or invest 4 bucks and read my book?
I’m waiting 🙂