Blog No. 234
I’m calling this one an update, but really, it’s more like a rant. Perhaps a more ranty rant than usual, or maybe all my rants are like this and am just realizing it for the first time. I’m tired. I’m tired to my bones. I thought I’ve been tired before, but this exhaustion I’m feeling right now makes the past seem like a happy wonderland. (As looking back tends to be). I’ve loaded my plate up pretty heavily this year. Between the two books, Bookfest, ChiWindsor, Flags and High Fives, Boxing, events, and this blog, I’m finding it all a little difficult to keep progressing. If everything is going smoothly (and I can force myself to work when the thought of doing any more makes my eyes bulge) I’ve got it under control. The problem comes when I hit the slightest bump.
I’m not going to talk about any specific bumps. That seemed petty and silly. The bump itself isn’t the issue. It’s the fact that the mere thought of hitting another one makes me tense up. Maybe I am just incapable of handling so much, maybe it’s just too much to handle. After the chaos that was Shock Stock, I felt like I was starting to find my routine again. I had a lot to catch up on (especially after three weeks where my day job took all my time and energy) but I was picking away at it. Then time caught up with me and a bunch of regularly scheduled things came up. Writing (mostly editing at this point) took a back seat again, but I could see the end of the hiatus and pushed forward. Then I hit a bump and lost a whole day to seeming nothingness.
I even lost half of this blog (as I wrote it) to a browser crash. I’ve got that going for me too. The project that’s taken the worst hit is the Summer novella I wanted to get out in June. With a little luck and some calmer seas, I should still be able to get it out by the end of the summer, but the original deadline is no longer feasible. I was really hoping to make it a fun, action-packed, short summer read for the city. Part of me believed it would sell really well, especially to people who don’t read as much as they want to. The ideal window is gone, but I still need my own book out (and something new to sell at events). What’s making me most nervous is the layout. While the crime anthology will be the same size as No Light Tomorrow, I want to do a new layout that can work as a clean template for any future books of the same size. I learned a lot doing the No Light layout, and I want to do it properly (or at least better).
Even the thought of future projects is overwhelming though. I’m well aware that I could make better use of my time and even get better with scheduling. To be honest, a portion of my stress is my own doing. There are things I’ve added to my schedule that are just for recreation that are not necessary (or the extra recreation I normally take could be trimmed to give the new stuff more space) but I don’t wanna. My time spend doing little to nothing give me energy. I can last a week off of one good day wasted watching old movies.
The real secret is learning how to avoid those bumps in the road. If I can do that, I should be able to stumble forward at a reasonable pace. The more realistic option is to cut down on the responsibility. There are a lot of things I wish I could do, but I’m just not equipped to handle them all. If writing is going to survive. Something else has to go. I’m not going to abandon any commitments. I’m just not going to agree to them again when they come back around. Also, I’ll be happy to go a while longer between the anthology and the next group project. Publishing is fun, but it’s a lot of work, planning, and upkeep that I’d rather skip to work on my own writing. Maybe next time, I’ll play the writer’s role and someone else can play publisher.
Hang in there, Ben. Writers all have days and months that try our souls and our projects. The key is to persist regardless and learn. You’ve got this!
Thanks, Jason. I’m getting there. Got my crime story to the editor yesterday, and episode three of the podcast edited. That was a big step.
I think this quote fits.
Great artists treasure their time with a bitter and snarling miserliness. (Catherine Drinker)
Eerily accurate! I’ve got to get better at that.