I’m not generally known as a klutz, but I do manage to have my moments. I took a bit of a stumble this weekend and jammed up most of the left side of my body. My shoulder, elbow, and wrist appear to have caught the worst of it. That’s bad enough in daily life, but for a guy who’s day job and night job both center around the keyboard and written words, well, it’s literally adding insult to injury. Although nothing seems to be broken, I’ll be going through a lot of life one handed for a little while until things start healing. Given the amount of time it’s taking me just to put this post together tonight, it’s a safe bet that my word count is going to be going way down. I’ll keep at it as best I can, but I can only get some much done hunting and pecking with one hand.
At least it was my non-dominant side that took the hit. I’d be pulling my hair out by now if I were trying to keep up with this left handed. It hurts my head just thinking about that possibility. So, for the next few days if you’re wondering what I’m up to, I’m just hanging out typing about seven words a minute trying not to lose my mind. I think once the wraps come off, I might be able to type again as long as there are no other sudden movements. You know, when I mentioned things always jumping up and distracting me, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it doesn’t really surprise me at all.
Not much to say tonight other than I’ve managed to drag myself kicking and screaming back to having some semblance of discipline about writing on a daily basis. It took way, way more effort than it should have, but I don’t think I want to talk about that – or at least not to say anything more than it is so incredibly easy to fall out of the habit buy so damnably hard to pick it up again. Unfortunately, this a lesson I need to learn the hard way over and over and over again.
We’re cruising on towards 9,000 words now. I’m happy with where the story has been and where it’s headed. In the end, maybe that’s enough.
Over the last three days I didn’t blog. I didn’t write. I didn’t even scribble down any notes to use later. What I did do for the last three days was take a proper, if abbreviated, vacation. No laptop, no tablet, no phone, just lots of time to lose myself in other people’s writing and in the beauty of my surroundings. That kind of get away was long overdue. Even though I don’t get stressed out over writing, my day job can be a real son of a bitch, so it’s nice to be reminded from time to time that there is a whole world out there that doesn’t give a damn whether I show up at the office or not.
I should probably feel guilty about not turning those good vibes of relaxation into a few thousand words, but I don’t. My only actual regret from the weekend was that I couldn’t find a way to extend it by 30 or 40 days. Sitting at someone else’s desk. Chasing someone else’s ambitions is a piss poor way to spend a life even if it does pay the bills. Who knows, maybe that’s the best incentive I could possibly find to keep writing no matter what. As long as my fingers keep mashing away on the keys, there’s at least a fighting chance of being able to spend my days doing something so much more productive.
I scratched out about 600 words this week. That doesn’t sound like much to anyone, myself included, but since I’m all about being as open and honest as my situation allows, the least I could do is report that I did keep up at least a small measure of forward momentum this week. Those 600 words don’t sound like much effort by any measure, but they’re what I managed to grind out in the margins – sitting at traffic lights, waiting for my coffee to brew, and even sitting on the can. They’re the words that managed to get on the page when ever other free minute was booked solid with “something else to do,” so my pride in those few words is all out of proportion to how many of them there are.
This weekend is going to be a wasteland for writing, but there’s easier sailing over the horizon. By Tuesday or Wednesday of next week, I should be able to get this thing back on track. I think I’m passed the middle of Whored Out, now and I’m even starting to get of sense of where this story needs to end up. It’s the point where the early motivation is used up and the high of being close to a first draft isn’t anywhere in sight. I’m in the doldrums and all I know how to do is put my head down and work through them. No one ever tells you about that really glamorous part of trying to crash the gates of the erotic story business.
Resistance is firmly in control this week. With a busy holiday weekend just passed and a big trip coming up at the end of this week, writing has taken a temporary back burner position in order to manage all of life’s other burning requirements. To the “you always have to make time” crowd that probably sounds like a load, but this is one of those weeks where what it is will just have to be what it is. Unless something changes, I don’t foresee getting any appreciable work done on Whored Out, for at least a week. If there’s time left over at the end of all the other commitments, I’ll write, but I’m not making that a commitment.
I’m not complaining that the week is full of new and interesting things that need doing, but it’s at least an acknowledgment that those new and interesting things come with a cost attached. In this case that cost is almost certainly going to be the thirty minutes to an hour I try to commit to writing each night. It’s not an optimal solution, but in the spirit of not letting all good things in life pass me by while I peck at the keyboard, I’m going to embrace it as fully as possible. Who knows, this week will probably be good for a few new blog topics, some great memories, and maybe even a damned good time. I’d be a fool to pass that up… as long as I’m able to force myself back into the routine of writing every night once I’m done what needs doing.
Due to circumstances beyond my control – namely a powerful set of thunderstorms and a power failure at the homestead, last night’s regularly scheduled blog post never came to fruition. By the time the lights came back on around midnight, I was too bleary eyed to even think about crawling out of bed to do any writing. Just another punch to roll with.
This morning (here in America at least), we celebrate our Independence Day. I take great pains to keep my politics off this blog, but I’ll say for the record that I’m very glad to live in a country where I can write and publish erotica without fearing for my personal safety. I’ve got enough childhood shame left in my system to not want my mother finding out about this little sideline, but unlike so many places on earth I don’t have to worry about my government kicking in the door, smashing up the computer, and hauling me off to jail for official “indecency.” Hard as it is to believe, something that simple is a big deal.
How we think about our liberty, what we’re willing to do to preserve and expand it, ebbs and flows over time. The trend in my lifetime has been towards a loosening of “moral standards,” making my kind of creative activity more accepted today than at any time in our history. That’s a great news story not just for me, but for anyone who spends time walking on the “other” side of the proverbial tracks.
It may be fashionable to call out all the faults and failings of the United States these days, but I’m not going to join that bandwagon. For all those faults and failings my country has been very good to me over the years. Today I’ll celebrate her independence. The discussions of where we’ve gone wrong and what we need to fix can wait a day.
A week ago we rolled through a little milestone here that I wasn’t expecting. Suddenly I looked up and somehow this blog had reached its 200th post. For a guy working full time, writing on the side, and trying to maintain some semblance of a personal life, I’d say that’s not a bad run. Of course not all those posts are noteworthy. Some of them are downright trash, hastily written and posted without proofing. It happens, but just like in telling a story, I like to think the important part is getting the words down on the page at all, or the screen in this case.
I hope a few of the posts I’m made here are really worthwhile, that somewhere in this mess are a few nuggets of real truth that speak to what it’s like to want to write more than anything else a guy could spend his time doing. I think I’ll always think of myself as running an insurrection on a shoe string, so these milestones are important, especially when sales aren’t stacking up the way you’d like. It’s a battlefield of shifting sand out there. Every time an algorithm changes, you’re left wondering if anyone is even going to be able to find your stuff. Out here, a guy with a blog has a fighting chance to get noticed no matter what the big retail players do to tweak their systems.
So here’s hoping for another two hundred posts… and another two hundred past that. It’s a big world and if you don’t take the opportunity to tell your own story, someone else will, or worse yet, your story will never get told at all.