Our lives are not like most

So I've finally, after six weeks of nothing, dragged my ass into writing position, and am actually WRITING. But I wouldn't be me if I didn't partake in some procrastination in between bursts of genius. Hence this blog post and also starting to write my acknowledgements (yeah, I know...). I'm also trying to get myself out of a dicey spot I put myself in by engaging in conversation with a nutter. All in a day's work.

But I have a plan, a real plan, for how I'm going to finish this fucker by my deadline. And today is the first day. Ok, so admittedly, the plan kind of fell apart this morning when I woke up 10:30 instead of 7:30. But a little adversity is good for the soul.

I'm aware that for me to do this I'm going to have to be very disciplined and forsake all others. There can be no exceptions (not even for cocktails). It's going to take every ounce of stubborn in my body (which, thankfully, is a lot). It means giving up my social life. It means being exhausted from work and still getting up and do this. And when it's done, it means starting the next project and do it all over again.

Because it is who I am. And as my dear friend Alex reminded me of the other day, our lives are not like most. And to be honest, I wouldn't want any other life than this.

Scrap the novel - embrace the sunk cost fallacy

Another crap day, and no sleep. I'd like to say maggotcocks at this point but with all the flack I'm getting for being who I am I'd better stop swearing too. Which reminds me of a workshop where someone commented that on page 5 or 6 of my first chapter my protagonist says "fuck" and the comment was that they would have like to know a bit earlier that "it was going to be that kind of novel". I was that kind of novel but now I'm having to rewrite myself.

So no maggots of any sort anymore. But it was thinking about that very word and cockpossum that made me realize that I'm just not going to do this. Finish the novel that is. I thought it be awesome, Eliza walking into Abby's in the first chapter and saying that, that'd be just like her. But then I thought, if Eliza walks into Abby's in the first chapter I need to rewrite the second chapter (where she first appears) and realized I just can't be bothered. There's so much work to finish this piece of crap.

I can't do it working full-time (= 12 hour days). I can't take a month off next summer, and it can't wait that long anyway.

Ergo, stop wasting energy on something that's so unlikely to ever get finished, and just "enjoy" life. I have 37 bars on my must-go-to bar list; surely that's a way better way (bad writing, see...) to spend my life? I've turned down a few dates to write (or I used writing as  an excuse not to go on dates with people I don't want to go on said dates with. But as I proved earlier this year, I did them a favor as I only go on dates if I first have two profs plying with me with wine so I can show up an hour late, drunk and talk about another guy for the rest of the evening. I actually went on a second date with that guy, to which I showed up really tired, declared that we were not on a date, just having drinks, proceeded to get drunk, talked about another guy and got walked to the subway at 9:30pm. I'm such a bad date! Like the worst date ever.)

So, I'm shelving the novel (and dating). I admit defeat. Who needs to finally achieve the one thing they always wanted to achieve anyway?

Cheers.

Enough with the lazy & excuses already

So I haven't written a word since the end of my retreat, which today is a month. A whole month wasted and I haven’t even been drunk. Maybe that’s why I haven’t written anything.

50% of my energy has been put towards an upsetting event, 50% has gone into endless hours at work and 75% has been spent on telling my brain to "shut the fuck up or I will lobotomize you” because as usual it’s fucking annoying and obsessive. Yeah, I’m talking to you pigfuck! (Sorry, I picked this word up from a novel this morning. Haven’t quite decided how to use it yet – maybe “we were drunk like pigfuck”. Or “you’re such a pigfuck”. It also works very well in Swedish, especially if you add som fan after it. See, you can always learn new things by reading.) The remaining 50% I’m going to spend on learning how many percent goes into 100%. And, to add to my my defense, I've been travelling and I've had a life.

So, anyway, the inclination, mood and energy to sit down and write after having to cram 175% into 100% have really not been there. But I do realize the time has come to pick this up again or the project, i.e. my novel, might actually just slide into oblivion. 

So I’m thinking I need a new schedule. (Though first of all I need to stop starting all my paragraphs with “so” and also stop starting sentences with “so”. I do it way too often, even in my novel. So what? Pigfuck. I like starting my sentences with “so”.) And new routines. And new people. And I need a drink.

I’m now mentor-less so (progress, a “so” not at the start of the paragraph/sentence) I don’t have deadlines beside any I set myself. Which I never, or at least hardly ever, meet. I’m meant to see the guy I did some workshopping with before I left for NY in the next few weeks but that’s not enough of a kick up the backside to make me write. And he’s only seen two chapters – I can just hand him something I wrote ages ago, which means I don't even have to actually write to meet up with him. It was much easier when I had to hand over money every month. I almost miss having a mentor.

So (yep) I also need readers and editors. Apply within.

(This is a pigfuck post. I’m just rambling because I don’t have a clue how I’m going to go about this pigfuck.)

The last few days I’ve heard myself saying to people, confidently, that my new deadline is my birthday - i.e. the end of May. And I think it’s realistic. I reckon it will take me about 1-2 Sundays (my day set aside for writing, unless… actually I shouldn’t tell anyone what the exception is) to edit a chapter, and maybe I will have to sacrifice Saturdays too. Unless I'm going to move after Christmas. But maybe if I want this done I will have to give up all else. Apart from running. And cocktails. And Halloween. It will all be worth it when it’s there, on a shelf, in a bookstore. Sometimes you just have to choose what you want most in life.

And I can always comfort myself with the knowledge that the next one will be so much easier…

Tears

I realize this post isn't going to make much sense to most, as only a very few knows what has happened. 

I've had some very unsettling and upsetting weeks (which have included a lot of tears) since I returned back from my writing retreat, not helped today by having abuse shouted at me by a crazy person over the phone for like 25 minutes at work. To be honest, with everything else going on it almost made me cry - and I don't cry over work crap. And that's after already bursting into tears over lunch while telling a friend about what's been happening in my private life since my return.

I spent a large part of last weekend with a tissue in one hand and a whiskey in the other (note - not while driving). And Wednesday I burst into tears in my Hendricks and tonic and last night I burst into tears in my Kraken and diet (though that went unnoticed - phew!). So it seems since coming back my life is all about crying.

I have decided to use this constant teariness for some good. Because tears can be powerful and make you determined too. She said she knows I will finish my novel, that it will get picked up and published. And I want to make her proud; I want to do this for her.

So, after I've finished crying for this time and I've been for a run, I'm going to sit down and start editing Chapter 1. Maybe I am committing the fucking sunk cost fallacy, but I don't care - I going to finish this novel even if it kills me. Although, since I told her about my next project, I kinda have to stay alive long enough to complete that too.