I recently finished writing a novel. By finished I mean I wrote the book but I need to edit, polish, and make it look like a 4 leaf clover, hoping some lucky soul will find it and show it to the world. Fears set aside, my entire life has been filled with “clues” that I should write a book. I placed twice in young authors in elementary school, and I also entered in junior high, scored really high, but was disqualified for its “adult nature.” High school I did really well in English classes, I wrote screenplays for my digital media classes, one of which won critics choice award at a film festival.
It sucks but oh well…..
In college I took a fiction writing class and during our work shop programs I received a lot of positive feedback for some harsh ass critics. The type of hipsters that sit in coffee shops and read “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs” (No hate it sounds interesting) These people were my critics and they pushed me to move forward. I went through a rough patch right after that. I thought a knocked a girl up, (It wasn’t mine) my grandpa died, and I just was caught in between boy and man, but I still needed to find myself. That year was 2010….Its been one hell of a road trip.
I learned a lot this year. I took time off of college to live on a farm and write stories. My girl friend moved in with me and made my life a living hell. Breaking up with her was a curse I wear on my sleeves better than my heart. I have not dated anyone since, partly do to my selfish nature of “soul searching.”
Known also as “the bad year” It was hard to write during this time period. Alcohol and causal sex with ex girlfriends seemed to be my only writing for the first parts of the year. My friends suffered the same fates and we all partied in this one apartment that we slowly destroyed, due to our love of playing drunk volleyball in the kitchen. We all did terrible things this year. I developed a love for whiskey and Nightrain. Near the end of the year I started releasing some of my stories on smashwords. http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ForkNecklace
It was my first real piece of writing I have had since college, but I knew very soon I was going to have to begin a novel.
I began and failed at writing a novel. I talked about it all the time. It was going to be a group of short stories but my heart felt that I was cheating myself. During this year I was trying to end causal hook ups with an ex, followed by catching mono from another girl and I was put on bed rest for a month, while still dealing with my ex girl friend who lied about getting raped, that really fucked with my head.
I began my novel and wrote 70 hard pages over the course of 3 months. I mentally fell apart and was hard on myself during this time period. It all changed when I met an older woman who helped me get back on track with my life and helped me forget about my mistakes of the past. I redid a story I wrote in college and released it online http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/441193
I wrote a bunch of horror movie reviews in October…. speaking of October…
On November 1st I started over on a new draft of my novel with the intentions of finishing on May 31st 2015.
Totally finished on time.
However, in these months I have found my social life has fallen apart. I work full time as a dietary manager (host) at a retirement home. I live in a single apartment next door to a strip of college student infested bars. If I spend time with people it usually balls deep in whiskey. I can’t have an honest relationship, because of my writing. I had become obsessed with a every aspect of my novel. It cuts me out from the rest of the world. A lost soul among a pool of fouls. I get really lonely at times, but the feel of writing has always made me feel better. It is a contest cycle of up and down with my feels. A nonstop roller coaster….
I write this to assure myself that I have made it. I am taking a break from “hard writing” to do freestyle indie stuff like smashwords and this blog. I have been wanting to write about other things I enjoy, like food, sex, video games, books, movies, fishing, and whatever weird thoughts that run through my head on a daily basis. Trust me, I have tons.
My life has been…strange…but I intend to write about it for the horrors in my head, can be blessings when written in blood…I do not know what that means…I just wrote it. For the record I am a dark fiction writer. Not sure why but that is my style….
So did it destroy me? Not yet…..we shall see……