Ah, But That Would Be Telling

[a-weary-writer]

Here’s to 2021...

Wow. Been a minute since I been here.

What’d I miss?

Anywho, I suppose a long overdue update is needed.

I have been from the “Twilight Zone” to the “Void” and back again. I finished the first book I was working on and another book draft, been working on plots for new books and the few series I have planned. My Patreon is up and running, woot, and I put myself on twitter. That was a thing.

For now, I am trying to get over these seasonal depression that got mixed up with my normal depression. Good news is I finally took the leap and got myself a counselor, I know it’s not the biggest thing in the world but it felt big to me.

I’d been going so long without one, kept telling myself that I could handle it myself but my husband and friends finally got to me. They made me realize that I shouldn’t have to. I needed help and it wasn’t fair to myself to make me do it alone.

I can definitely breathe a little easier now.

Enough about all that though, I am so excited to meet the goals I have put in place for this year. I might have added too many, but it’s fine we’ll take them one at a time. I’ve started to add in more content on my Patreon and I am now offering the first chapters of each of my books for free to read.

I also added the first parts of some WIPs on there too for free and hope that my work will speak for itself so I can get more support. Whether that’s financial or not I’m not worried about it, I know as long as I keep working hard at my writing and getting it done that I will get to the place I want to be in my journey.

So for everyone out there who is reading this and supports me I want to thank you.

It’s you that helps fuel my fire and keep me going.

[a-weary-writer]

These Feelings are Toxic...

It’s probably easy to tell from the things I write and talk about on social media that I am not a confident person. I never have been , despite the overwhelming amount of support I have from family and friends around me. Even though I’ve been lucky and most everyong only has “nice” things to say to me.

I still feel less.

I feel like I’m being lied to and that I’m just some no name wanna be from the middle of nowhere and it’s all I’ll ever be. Which in part is true. I’ve been raised in the country, spent my whole life surrounded by unobscured scenes of trees and sunsets. The occasional plane or train sounding off in the distance. Eighteen wheeler roaring by.

But even though I’m an average person with an average background I’ve always had this dark spot in me. Maybe it grew there, maybe it was put there, or maybe I’ve just always had it but it whispers to me.

I used to pretend in my head as a kid that I was someone else, someone smarter, prettier and more talented. That I grew up into a lovely adult woman and was successful, happy and content with a life and career.

I guess part of that is true now, as I steadily approach thirty I’m told my life isn’t even REALLY starting yet. I have a family, I am happy, but I have no dreamy days filled with loving my career and being content with where I am. I have none of that yet.

And as I traverse this… ocean filled with all these different ships. Each representing an author or a writer and they’re all different, which is a good thing. But I see so many, and it feels like I might be taken out from the waves of some of them. Swallowed up and drowned out by the overbearing success of some before I even get the chance to begin.

I am in no way trying to bash or belittle these people, they deserve their hard earned rewards. I’m only trying to express how I feel as a minnow being tossed around the sea, I’m not an amazing writer.

At least I don’t think I am.

I know I have the potential to be one, but lately as I follow and keep track of those who are successful, in some small hope that I’ll learn something, I am shaken.

I feel so… small, and so inadequate next to some of these and to say that is actually an insult to these great writers and leading influencers.

I’m nowhere near next to them, I’m barely at their feet with how insignificant I am compared. And I know, I know, “Weary don’t compare yourself to others.”

It’s hard not to sometimes…

I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to be this one thing, I’m scared of it at the same time. I struggled with so much anxiety and depression (I know most everyone does) I get so overwhelmed and overthought that I just fizzle and burn out.

Then I’m left feeling like the failure I am.

Somehow i get back up though and I keep going. Despite the feelings still haunting my aching cavity where a heart should be. It all sounds like a pity party. It all sounds like i’m looking for someone to feel sorry for me but i don’t want that.

I want to be stronger. I want to stop feeling this way. I want to be able to pick myself and dust myself off quicker with each time I fall down until those thoughts are barely a minute out of my day.

I want to stop feeling like trash. Like I’m not “good enough” to be a writer, or an author. I want to stop feeling like I’m wasting my time chasing a dream not meant for me. Even if that part’s true. I want to stop second guessing every word on the page even though I know that will never happen.

I just want someone to understand.

But maybe that’s the point of it, maybe no one will and no one ever does and that’s why we are the unique creatures we are as writers. Because we understand and we don’t, because we know and yet we don’t. Each of us has a different thing that settles itself inside our chest and roots in deep into our bones, leaching poisoned words and thoughts and feelings.

All of them are different.

So when we meet another we know their pain and yet we don’t, they know ours and yet they don’t. We’re the same and yet we’re not.

I think that’s a sad beautiful thing. Like reaching for yourself in the mirror even though you can’t touch the person inside. The one unseen. The one hiding behind those eyes you look into and see deep in the dark.

I feel this way a lot, I feel this way too much. I feel like my mirror is broken and I’ve lost sight of who that person inside is, it makes my heart ache.

So when I see others and I see they’ve made it, they’ve gotten to the place I want to be. I want to ask them. “How do I get there? How do I find my path? Teach me?”

But I don’t.

I know asking and questioning just makes me look more the desperate fool I am and no one likes a fool. No one likes a naive and hopeless person who’s desperate and annoying to others. I’d just sound like a “writer baby”.

Or worse, like someone who wants someone else to do everything for them and have all the answers handed to them.

I don’t want the answers to the problem.

I want to understand the problem, the formula, I want to learn the pattern and the process and write in my own answers.

Too bad I’m terrible at Math.

I don’t think I could get it even if someone handed it to me. It would be like reading an unknown language. All this talk of platforms and reaching people, of putting yourself out there and engaging and socializing and bringing in the followers.

It’s hard for me.

Because I’d want to know all of them, I’d want to talk to them and understand them but I’m just one person and I don’t think I could do that. I couldn’t be a friend to everyone even though I want to. I couldn’t, it’d be too much.

All this always boils down to a realization I hate having. I hate feeling.

I’m not enough.

But of course I know, this is just my anxiety talking. That dark voice in my head hell bent on making me hate myself.

In the end I think it’s all just a slow process of getting over it and healing one day at a time. That’s all any of us can do cuz.

[a-weary-writer]

These stories suck...

You know if there’s one thing that I hate about writing, it’s the stories.

Most of the time I’m very excited to be writing on a new idea that’s popped up inside my head and rolls around a bit until it’s got a decent shot of a developed plot. I love when a plot I’ve been working on grows juicier and develops into ways I couldn’t have imagined it would, when my own imagination surprises me.

But.

There are downsides to that, because unfortunately it can’t be that way all the time. A large portion of time is spent brainstorming and scribbling down ideas and possibilities for a story that end up trashed. Because you either don’t want to do too much of what’s already been done or the only ideas you can think of are “old hat”.

It sucks.

I usually end up groaning and moaning and staring at a blank page/doc/notepad.

My husband (and a few other people) always say “Well you’ll never get away from a trope/cliche”

That’s fine, I’m not out to create a groundbreaking new genre or story telling whatever, although come on that’d be pretty cool (*cough* Stephen King *cough*) I just want to tell these stories that bounce around in my head and play out like a movie until I start writing it down.

Cause yeah that’s a thing FYI.

Can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, like, a random song and it inspired that plot for an entire series. (Musicians please STAHP)

But it can be hard on the brain, like a single person trying to run a call center or office. And I’m not even being PAID for this yet!! Fingers crossed though.

And I am normally so great at working through it (don’t ask anyone else) but sometimes, as a mom and wife with a busy home life, I just don’t have it in me. Sometimes it takes weeks to come out of a slump.

And I am in no way saying that my husband and child get in the way of my writing.

Sometimes I have to prioritize my family over writing and that’s something I will never not do.

My husband is great, everyday he makes sure to take our son and spend one-on-one time with him and see to his every need so mommy can write something uninterrupted and in peace and quiet.

Extra time is spent on the weekends mommy has a deadline or something else, usually arguing with fictitious characters about sticking to the damn plot.

I can’t be grateful enough, I suffer from these… depressive periods that I just want to sleep and I don’t really do a lot.

Actually I’ll tell you what I do, I stew inside my head and cry a lot and think about the meaning of life and my part in it. That’s what I do.

Do I need help?

Probably.

Is this a bad thing?

Eh, maybe.

I feel like everyone has their own way of coping with this great burden placed upon us called LIFE.

None of us chose to be here, yet we’re expected to be grateful for being born and being alive and most of the time, most people are very happy for the chance to live a wonderful life and be here experiencing this.

But there are times I wonder.

Did my parents have me for me?

Or for them?

Did I have my child for me?

Or for him?

Who’s to say.

All I know is that in this life there are things that are really hard for some people, easy for others, and then there are people in between. Things that come hard to them at first but they rise to the occasion and climb over the hurdle.

Sometimes we fall and lay there thinking, “Should I get back up?” “Is it worth it?” “Whats’ the fucking point?”

I do not have an answer to those questions. As I am still searching for them, but that’s what gets me up, I tell myself that I’d rather give it my all that not at all, and see where I end up in the end.

Until then I’ll keep writing these stories that break my heart and cost me my sleep and sanity and probably my youth.

Maybe it’s all for nothing, maybe it’s all for everything.

Maybe it’s just something to do.

We’ll see cuz, we’ll see.

[a-weary-writer]

Sometimes I just want to burn it all...

Word Vomit:

This won’t be the last time you hear me talk about this, because I feel this way so much and so often it makes me sick. I get stuck, like in the way I talked about “writers block” before. I get stuck and I can’t… I can’t see my way out.

It’s so dark in here and I feel so alone and I can’t stop the thoughts that visit me and tell me I’m worthless and my writing is trash. I can’t turn it off, nothing anyone says or does can drown out the inner voices in my head and I hate it all so much.

I want to quit.

I want to just burn and delete it all and forget I ever had these stupid ideas that someone like me might actually be a good writer. Or a published author.

Laughable. Like the worst fucking joke ever.

Because that’s what they are, stupid ideas and fantasies from some backwoods girl from Oklahoma who has only ever had one thing she ever wanted to do with her life but it won’t happen. So why do I keep writing? Shouldn’t I know better than to keep reaching into that fire???

Why the hell do I keep putting myself through this horrible feeling when I get stuck, or I feel down and drained and there are no more ideas in my head to keep the story going? Just a failure...

WHY??

What is wrong with me???

It hurts so much I have to keep myself from bursting into tears anytime someone asks “Are you okay?” “ How’s the writing going?”

It hurts, it burns in my chest like a hot coal that refuses to die even though it’s slowly killing me inside.

I hate it.

It hurts.

Why do I keep doing this?

I know why, I know it because it’s in every drop of blood that pulses inside me. I love to write, when it’s going good I feel unstoppable and I can do anything in my writing. I feel so joyful when I meet my new characters or put them on their journey and see their growth.

Through the tragedy and the pain, all the loss and struggle, there’s beauty in it all. Seeing my character overcome adversity makes me feel like theres nothing I can’t do. I feel closer to them even more than what they were just little sprouts of a personality inside my head. I feel like them.

Even though that’s a lie. In reality I’m just a scared 20 something year old wife and mom who can’t finish what she starts.

But I love to write.

And I love to tell stories.

Maybe all the pain I feel in between, will be worth it when that flickering flame of inspiration finally dies in me completely. Who knows what I’ll have to look back on when that happens.

You know what cuz, I think it might make it all worth it.

[a-weary-writer]

You ever have one of those moments when you think to yourself “why the hell does anyone care?” This is one of those.

I can not ever and probably will never be able to express how much I HATE putting myself out there. “Bad experience?” I hear you ask or even expect me to talk about. But no not really, well maybe like 1 or 2 but they weren’t all that scarring.

No i just genuinely hate feeling like I’m the type of person that’s all like “Look at me! I’m a writer! Look at what I’m writing! Read my GENIUS!!!”

Because lets face it ain’t none of us geniuses. I mean sure yeah a few of you reading this may be the next Stephen Hawking but like, get real.

Most of us are average Janes and Joes. Just living our worst life out here, hating this struggle that’s way too real sometimes.

Spoiler alert, that’s why (probably) most of us write fiction. To escape. I mean I can’t even say “escape this hell” cause you know, Dante and all that.

ANYWHO

I always feel S O uncomfortable when I KNOW it’s a good time to mention to someone that “Oh hey, you read? I write.” Or some random shit like that, it happens very rarely in my life and honestly I’m surprised I catch them. But they do happen and as content creators and artists we’re told “BE BOLD” and “PUT YOURSELF OUT THERE” oh my favorite that last bit.

“HoW WiLl pEoPLe FinD YoU iF yOu DoN’t gEt OuT tHeRe?”

This is a craft not a search and rescue. Calm down.

But they DO have a point much to the distaste of the little introverted Golem inside me, and the worst feeling that comes with that territory is that FUCKING FAKE ASS SMILE and those words, “Oh, that’s cool. Yeah I’d love to read what you have.”

No they don’t, they’re just being polite. Don’t hold your breath on that shit cuz, you deserve better.

It can be hard to tell the difference when you first start out, whether or not a person ACTUALLY wants to read your shitty drafts or not but hey. It happens.

I found that I had to change my choice of tactics. See what worked for me.

So, instead of nervously clutching my proverbial skirt and fidgeting “Maybe, you could read my story?”

Nope.

I started to TALK about my story. BUT not as if I had written it, I talked about it as though I had read it. Talked about it like I was talking about a story from my favorite author.

That got some heads turning.

I went from having a tight circle of only 5 “beta readers” to what I have now which is a good 17-20 people. Not too shabby honestly. And the best part for me is these are people I know actually like my stories and WANT to read them. They aren’t just being polite.

But I was really scared of letting them all in, and one of them is my husband.

Don’t get me wrong, he is HELLA supportive but I’ve always been hesitant to let people in on my writing. Because no matter what some people say or think or how they choose to view their writing, for me, each character is just a small little fragment of my soul.

My hero’s, my villains, my MC’s and SC’s, all of them. There’s a little of me inside each of them, even just one little aspect of that personality. It comes from me.

So I don’t think that I’ll ever get over feeling afraid of baring my soul to other people in my writing. Because it sucks, to feel like people you want to trust reject you. To feel like no one cares about who you are not only as a creator but as a person. I think a lot of people who don’t have a creative side to themselves don’t realize how much that rejection can damage an artist.

It crushes us.

And you know what? We are left with broken pieces to make something new, to make another thing that might get rejected again.

But with each rejection I think that creation grows more beautiful, more character and more strength.

Because each piece will tell a story.

Unfortunately, not all of those stories will be read or heard or seen. But we keep trying right? Artists man, gluttons for punishment I swear. I suppose tenacity is a good thing, but is there ever such a thing as being too tenacious? Like is there a line in the sand somewhere that tells you when you need to stop, back off, give it a rest?

I’m pretty sure I set one for myself. But do other people do that?

Would that make us more interesting as writers? Would people be head over heels to know what goes on inside our heads? Of course not.

It’s a harsh truth, but as annoying as we might think ourselves to be, there will be a one in the hundred or even thousand that when we talk about our creation, they’ll be all ears.

So keep talkin’ cuz, someone will hear you.

[a-weary-writer]

Do they WANT us to get Kidnapped????

Am I the only one who remembers that delicate cusp of the 90’s into 2000’s where we were ALL told “don’t talk to strangers on the internet!”?

Because it feels that way, I swear I used to be so fucking chill before I starting trying to make a career out of writing. So. Fucking. Chill.

Like I’m an Aries, fire sign, rage machine. But I NEVER acted like one, EVER (okay maybe when I died playing video games but I mean who hasn’t rage quit before) BUT now, I gots no chill left! Wanna know why?

Long time ago, way back when, I was but a starry eyed story teller who wrote to entertain herself, and maybe a few friends. Those friends then pushed me to try and get published, despite my disinterest. They made me realize that if I loved telling stories so much, why not make it my job? Why not just get published? Why not aim for goals that my author-senpais have achieved and attain my dream?

Fuck it, lets do this shit.

So I spend my waking moments in between work and spending time with the fam and my munchkin who grows like weeds in my garden, “honing my craft”.

Surely, I think to myself in a dream like haze, surely if I’m a good writer then that’s enough right? If I just write entertaining stories and share them that’s enough right?

Right????

NO. IT’S NOT.

I found out about these people who tell you what you need to “get yourself out there”, I thought I was doing that already???? Sharing my work with close families and friends and a few acquaintances right? Isn’t that how it starts?

Sure yeah maybe but then you need a “platform” and an “online presence”

????

WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE????

Dude I am an introvert! Almost a literal HERMIT, if the cinema and book stores didn’t exist I’d only leave me hole for food and money. And back to my earlier statement; Are we not supposed to be avoiding strangers on the internet???

I mean I have like… less than 100 Facebook friends (yes really, don’t fucking judge me) but even I know about online trolls and other undesirable peoples that are asshats just cause they can be.

And you’re saying I have to EXPOSE myself and my BABIES to those people?????

Fuck that noise. WHY????Oh and I KNOW, “but Weary, this is how you get yourself noticed these days. This is how you make it, this is how you GET there.” You know what, even today some of my favorite authors that I absolutely LOVE were not found on the internet. I found them in my local library.

YES

ANOTHER SACRED SPACE I LEAVE MY HOLE FOR.

And you know what, I like that, I like it that way. I like just perusing the isles and happening upon a cover or a title or an authors name that just… SPARKS something in me.

It’s how I found Laurell K. Hamilton, J.R. Ward, Amanda Lovelace, Sherrilyn Kenyon, R.L. Stine, Stephen King, Terry Brooks, Sebastian Faulks, Shirley Rousseau Murphy, Christopher Paolini, and a lot of others.

I didn’t find them online, I didn’t happen across them or scrutinize their online presence in any way.

They were a gift given to me by chance, a little piece of the universe that landed in my hands and I love them. I love their writing and their stories, the way they tell it and the things they say.

Now before I step too far into this hole, let me be clear. I am not saying that in today's world that having a platform and a public identity for the world to visit at the push of a button on a screen is a bad thing.

But I think putting all our efforts and holding an author's worth up to only THAT as a standard is more than a little stress inducing. It makes me feel like I’ll never get there, like I’m trying so hard all the time everyday only to be told. “Oh well you’re not popular enough on instagram or tumblr or reddit so we’re not interested in your story”

That would be crushing to hear, to be told that you lost some popularity contest against thousands even though you tried your best.

Your best wasn’t good enough.

And that is fucking scary, when you think about how that might be you cuz.

[a-weary-writer]

You know what they don’t say about writing? That it sucks.

Word Vomit:

I don’t want to write today. Am I going to though? Fuck yes I am. Does that mean I’m going to want to write tomorrow? Who the fuck knows. See I read a lot of authors, bloggers, and other writer types talk about what you need to do as a writer (which is fucking write, big surprise) but I don’t see many of them say how they get their ass in the chair and do that. Some days I sit in my chair and don’t write a single word, I read and reread over and over what I’ve already written. Sometimes I back track and delete shit. Only to put it back and then swear up and down the page because it’s fucking frustrating. And yeah, I fuck around on facebook other socials, who doesn’t?

Other days I can sit in my chair from dawn until dusk and my fingers never leave the keyboard. How does that happen? What’s the difference in that day from the other? What am I doing differently that I can get so focused like that

Guess, what, NOT A DAMN THING.

I do the same thing that day as I did the day before, get up, drop off my kid, have my coffee and breakfast, send the hubby to work and then sit my ass down. So what the hell? Why am I more productive one day and not the next? What’s the SECRET??

There is not one, there is not a secret. For me, it comes down to the one thing a lot of writers are screaming that you CAN’T rely on.

Inspiration.

If your words and your imagination and your story doesn’t excite and inspire you, then you will fizzle and burn out. BUT, I will tell you that it isn’t the end of you or your ideas.

A lot of times I find it hard to connect the dots (or plots, as I like to call it) between some really cool or interesting story aspects. Like I had an idea for a dramatic event regarding a character in one of my stories that I LOVED and could not WAIT to write. So I wrote it in advance, then I had a struggle getting from where I was at currently in the story to that scene.

And it was sooooo fucking boring!

There was a lot of mundane shit I had to add to get them there logically and to make sense in the story and I hated every minute of writing it.

Did it make sense? Yeah I tied it all together.

Was it relevant? Yeah most of it was actually pretty important information.

Did you just info dump? Maybe a little but that’s not ALWAYS a bad thing if you practice doing it right.

Long story short, there will be parts of your writing that you will LOATHE, you will just want to cuss at it and every word you type will make you SICK. You feel like it’s just word vomit on the page.

That. Is. Okay.

You do not have to love every word you write. Just as long as you get that story out and then you can work on chipping away the unrefined parts in editing. I honestly wish I had been able to find something that said all this before I just jumped in. Not loving all of the writing process made me feel like I wasn’t doing it right, and all the people (well most) were saying that writers block isn't’ a thing.

I’m sick of hearing that. That it isn’t “real”, because it is, it’s just different for different people. Just because some people don’t get that or don’t have that problem or don’t struggle with it doesn’t mean the rest of us that DO are just making it up, or are delusional.

Because it was real for me, and still is. I just didn’t understand early on that I was the block and now I do. Now I know how to get around myself and my writing has gotten better because of that.

Give yourself some slack cuz, you’ll get there too

[a-weary-writer]

So nice to finally get up early consecutively. I may have a slight addiction to my pillows and comfy blankets...

[a-weary-writer]

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Precious Jack, our newest baby acts like he can’t stay away from my hubby or my son ❤️ he’s been a pretty good writing buddy too 😊 #wonderlustcoven #catstagram #writer #nanowrimo2019 #kittens #witchcraft #witchythings https://www.instagram.com/p/B4qtUT_gzyR/?igshid=3aazk437ccoh

[a-weary-writer]

🖤 Remember. You don’t owe them anything. #wonderlustcoven #witchesofinstagram #witch https://www.instagram.com/p/B4lg25AAApa/?igshid=191buny94nzru

[a-weary-writer]

Everything

Great

About

The Darkness 2

Check this video by Dedman gaming on YouTube!

#gaming #playthroughs #youtube #DEDMangaming #thedarkeness2 #playstation #playstation3games #youtuber #gamers #youshouldbewatching

[a-weary-writer]

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo2019 #writing #writer #write #wordcount https://www.instagram.com/p/B4gsEkuAbZx/?igshid=5b4ep366f93r

[a-weary-writer]

Love this $5 Walmart shopping bag. #savetheearth #nopapernoplastic #resusable #gogreen #lowwaste #tryyourbest #smallchangesbigresults https://www.instagram.com/p/B4dYZThgZZL/?igshid=uk1xrz6n1qx3

[a-weary-writer]

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo2019 #writing #writer #wordcount https://www.instagram.com/p/B4b4bkLg66Z/?igshid=194vrx6h87sc4

[a-weary-writer]

[a-weary-writer]

My stand in book cover for my Nano2029 project. #writer #writing #nanowrimo #nanowrimo2019 #goals https://www.instagram.com/p/B4VehvBAI5e/?igshid=1f0bpu235hry0

[a-weary-writer]

So ready. #nanowrimo2019 #nanowrimo #writing #writingcommunity #justdoitmeme #nanowrimooklahoma https://www.instagram.com/p/B4VFMmwgleR/?igshid=10tj3nieoxwed