Lose Your Head

*Title from Lose Your Head by London Grammar

I haven't been blogging in forever. Nobody really reads this blog, but that should make it more fun for me, not less: frankly I'm here for me, doing this for me. It keeps me on-focus and keeps me feeling like I have some momentum behind me. It helps me orient myself and remember what my goals are. Honestly, I know it's all about vlogging on Youtube/Twitch these days, but I'm never going to stop writing/blogging.

It may be retro, but whatever, retro used to be cool. I used to love reading Amanda Hocking's blog back in the day. Writers write, so it makes more sense for us to blog than vlog. I do love a lot of authortube, though, don't get me wrong. Liselle Sambury and Katie Wisemer and Kate Cavanaugh, Alexa Donne, stuff like that. They're great.

I just also love blogging. Even though I don't read any other blogs any more. But somebody needs to become a blogger icon and bring it back. I miss the vibes, I'm waiting for my blogger messiah. In the meantime I'm gonna keep writing.

I've been trying and failing to focus on this project...

I wrote my book Things We Sat At Midnight wayyyy back in 2014 or 2015. I don't remember which. I'm 99% sure it was 2015, but I've been sure and still been wrong before. What I DO remember is I wrote it in one day and I was stoned as fuck. I edited it and put it out that same day, too. Back then I was so obsessed with speed and proving I could churn things out quickly and have a pipeline of content like a traditional publishing house did. I was eighteen and I felt like I had so much to prove.

Now, looking back at it at 27, I think any self-publisher trying to keep up with, let alone compete with traditional publishers is wasting their time and their potential. It doesn't need to be proven anyway: most trad-pub authors put out one book a year while many self-pubbed authors are out here putting out like four books a year.

I just want to keep writing. That's my idea of success: words on a page.

I used to be able to leap into another world, now I have trouble getting outside of my own head and engaging with stories. I'm fighting to reconnect with that side of my creativity, my love of reading and writing that was all-encompassing and felt so natural. I miss it a lot.

It's harder to escape the world now. I was so idealistic when I started writing, and now I feel guilty for engaging in fantasy while other people are being bombed, or killed, or violated. I miss my old self, I miss my old friends, I miss the world of 2011, 2012, 2013, when I felt nature was alive, the future was bright and hopeful, and I was young and full of promise, on the brink of my dreams.

Now every moment of joy or escapism feels fought-for and hard-won. And feels laced with guilt, shame.

I am slowly editing and rewriting Things We Saw At Midnight, feeling nostalgic for older, simpler times and vibes. I'm particularly working hard on the story Just Another Ordinary Monday, which is being re-named Worldspeak and heavily rewritten/expanded. It's been a hell of a job so far.

The story needs a lot more editing and improvement than I thought it would, but it's okay. I'm having fun despite the challenge. But I'm coming out of some writer's block and thinking things through. Rereading. Editing. Taking stock. I forgot how much I love/need/want/require outlines. And I do. Require outlines.

Discovery writing is fun, but so unreliable.

From Just Another Ordinary Monday Morning >to> Worldspeak, this story is going from short story to novella, which means a lot is getting expanded, several characters are getting more to do, and the stuff that was there needs significant re-writing too, so lots is changing, and it's been intimidating, but I think I'm slowly getting a grasp on it. So here's to finishing this story as soon as possible so I can share it with somebody, anybody!