If you’re wondering why I haven’t written and posted new flash fiction or short stories, it’s because I’m saving them for a collection that will be free to read as an e-book and to be decided for print on demand on Amazon. Thank you for being patient while I compile and focus on new material. I hope to release it in the latter half of this year or early next year.
April 7, 2020: Journal Entry Type #38: Finally! Toilet Paper!
It took me a damn month to find toilet paper. Too bad I could only buy one package, but I understand. I was going to go for the cheaper pack but it had less rolls. Since I live with another person, it goes quicker than normal. Luckily, both our parents took pity on us and sent us some toilet paper. I’m not a fan of getting up earlier than I need to, but today I did. I even woke up before my alarm.
I’m busy working on my rewrites, poems and novel story, while realizing coloring a design three times takes way longer than only once. I’m starting my Rorschach designs and ordered more Arches paper and other white paper for bigger designs. I think I need another art show to get rid of my colorings as they are sitting in my closet. I’ve been asked what do you plan on doing with them. Honestly, I don’t know. Many of them have taken weeks and months to finish. I want to turn some of them into bookmarks. Before the Coronavirus hit, I wanted to do more research into starting an online store. I guess that will be for next year or later. Let’s just say my life will always be busy with coloring, writing, and reading when I have time. I’ve promised myself not to buy anymore books or movies until I watch and read the ones I already have UNLESS it is something I’m dying to buy.
The Coronavirus is tragic for obvious reasons. It has killed far greater numbers than anybody would’ve thought (except maybe for a few who knew the virus was this deadly). This new virus strain definitely has shown its resilience and power. I’m hoping the scientists can find the proper antidote to help curtail the spread of it or at least the strength of it. Unfortunately, it’s here to stay and still one of the most important ways to decrease the probability of not getting it is to wash your hands after touching things and being around people. Not enough people aren’t practicing the six foot distance rule or staying inside unless necessary.
If I didn’t find any toilet paper, I was thinking of other things to use. I still have kleenix on hand, but really didn’t want to use it. Someone mentioned plastic bags. Didn’t want to use that either. The hundreds of paper ads I get a year. Don’t want to use this either. Never tried a bidet but I don’t think I’d like it. That better be some high blasting water but luckily, I don’t need to invest in one yet. It’s only Tuesday, but at least, I found some toilet paper and paper towels. Now, I’m ready for a nap.
March 30, 2020: Journal Entry Type #37: Apartment Living 101
Growing up in a small town with literally no noise when you pull your covers up to your face and roll on your side to get a good night’s sleep, I haven’t experienced this is in a long time. Having lived in many different parts of Los Angeles, the best place I lived was near Hollywood Blvd. It was nice to watch the people walk around during the day and night from my balcony. I heard a car crash into something around two in the morning and when I looked outside, the guy was clearly intoxicated who ran his nice black car into a street sign. He wanted to drive away, but the guy helping him told him to stay put to make sure he was alright. I’d like to think of myself as pretty tolerant of noises especially when living in an apartment and for all intents and purposes, I am for the most part.
We’ve all read of horror stories of apartment living or couples buying a house to find the house has hidden secrets. I recently read of one where the new owners were greeted with a major infestation of brown recluse spiders hatching and living behind the walls. Then there was the woman who rented and lived in the basement. She found out it was the same basement where this man who lived with his mother would kidnap, torture, and kill women. I don’t know which is worse: dealing with either of these or living in a haunted house. I would say, in the long run, the non-living would be worse.
I get it that thin walls between apartments allows you to hear everything. I hear the dishwasher, washing machine, cupboards closing, and more of my neighbors. I can deal with all these things. What I can’t deal with is someone playing his music at five in the morning. It’s not that the person blasts as they sometimes do during the day, but when it wakes me up over my humidifier, it’s too loud. Plain and simple. I have no choice but to turn on the TV to try to drown it out, but by this time I’m more awake. I managed to get a little more sleep this morning, but for someone who has a hard time staying asleep, it doesn’t make me too happy.
The bottom line is the couple who lived before me finally moved out and now I have to deal with a couple next to me. When they take their dog out for a walk, they slam the door so hard it shakes the walls. I finally called the main office because enough is enough. They changed their tune because they used to say not our problem and call the cops. I wonder why? Putting things in perspective, let’s see what I don’t have to deal with anymore from past places I lived.
I’m sure I could find more things I dealt with in LA that I don’t now, but no matter where I live, noise is sure to be there. It’s about keeping it to a minimum when there are others living around you. If you want to blast your music at midnight on a Sunday, put on your headphones. The same goes for the TV. It’s about having some courtesy. I get it. You want to watch a movie loud during the day/early night so you get the full movie theater effect. Fine, whatever. However, it’s another thing to be loud, slam doors, drop things on the floor just to spite them as I heard from my neighbors who live underneath the giants. I’ve dealt with loud neighbors before who sought not to listen and be even louder. It didn’t get them very far and that’s all I’m saying about that.
March 18, 2020: Journal Entry Type #36: Now What Happens?
I’m going to begin this a little different. Sort of like an email you’d write to someone. Maybe at work or maybe to your friend. Who knows? Do you have that many friends you can or want to write to? I only have a handful I consider really close and the rest are acquaintances more or less. This is all I need, but I recently watched an episode of CSI about a woman who lived alone. She didn’t end up so well although the person who locked her inside her closet didn’t help the cause. I have some uneasiness inside of me due to this and I’m feeling out of sorts because of social media covering the Coronavirus. Yes, I know this will subside. Yes, I know this virus makes people sick and kills people. Yes, doctors and scientists have a long ways to go to learn about this new virus (much like the HIV/AIDS when it was discovered). No, we shouldn’t unnecessarily panic (this is where hoarding comes into play), but never did I think it would hit just about everyone and everything. Can’t sit in restaurants and coffee shops anymore. Some are completely closed down. Not cool but necessary. Some U.S. schools have shut down, workers are now working from out of home, and it’s dawned on me how frazzled a part of me has become because the impact has really come home to roost where I work. The travel industry has taken a hit all over the world. Cruise lines, airlines, B&B’s, and just about everything else is affected. I really hope the U.S. only had this hoarding problem and I feel incredibly bad for those living in areas already stretched to their limits. The Las Vegas strip is closed down for 30 days.
As I sit here writing this, I can’t help but think even though my life is basically the same that I don’t have the option of going out anymore. I’m doing the same thing I usually do with my writing, reading, coloring, and thinking how much I would love to be able to exercise consistently (due to my own body not cooperating and now the gym being shut down where I live). I’m still going to my doctor appointment because I’ve been waiting since December 2019 to see about this thing growing in my neck and would like resolution about the buzzing/ringing inside my ears on a daily and nightly basis. It’s hard to sleep when it feels as if I’m wearing a squeaking hearing aide and my new neighbors are TERRIBLE at night with their noises. I desperately want resolution as I think I have some kind of ear infection. I need another referral to a dermatologist unless my ENT can give me something else to get rid of whatever I have that is growing around my mouth. It has discolored my skin and it’s some kind of powerful fungus. Yes, it’s not an emergency, but this goes beyond the angular cheilitis I thought it was as well as a previous doctor. I need some medication to banish it to hell away and then some. The Democratic primary seems to have taken a back burner as Americans aren’t talking about it as much because the nomination seems set in stone and everyone is too busy emptying grocery stores. I learned there was plenty of sauerkraut, candy, cookies, and coffee beans, but good luck finding frozen meals, canned soups/veggies, and meats. I’m trying to completely go off of dairy again, but I broke down and bought marionberry yogurt. If you haven’t heard of the marionberry, it’s a blackberry from Oregon and a cross between the chehalem and olallie blackberry. It’s also the best ice cream I’ve had when I visited one time. Now, I want some.
I’m going to write in my journal after postponing it again last night. I basically feel unsettled in a way and a part of it is because I’m waiting for my roommate to finish making suggestions on my love story. I’m actually getting more psyched to make it better and spend quality time on it. I need to do more changes than less, but I want to improve it. It’s going to be a long road to the finish line and would assume the Tokyo Olympics will be postponed based on what is going on now. I suppose social media has its perks as it’s a way to communicate with others when face to face is no longer an option. I would love to get a movie from Redbox, but I don’t know who’s been touching the screens and this virus spreads quickly. I would love to watch a movie in a theater, but that isn’t happening either. Hollywood is postponing many of their release dates and for good reason. Movie theaters are in dire straits (not the band). I wanted to go to the Las Vegas strip before the Coronavirus hit, but I will see how it looks with no one there and without the lights soon from my car. I’m hoping I don’t get it when I go to my doctor visits in April. I guess this really didn’t take the form an email after all. I bought some new butt pillows recently and made my own hand sanitizer (I hope I don’t need to do this often). Well, I’ve about run of out things to say or maybe I just don’t want to write anymore. Be safe and sound everyone and do things you normally wouldn’t do within reason.
Kim Berg (aka: Pisaries Creator)
March 16, 2020: Quotes About Writing
March 9, 2020: Journal Entry Type #34: I’m Psyched
Instead of working on my second novel idea this past weekend, I started reworking my poems on Sunday. Jeez, I have a long road ahead of me. Why do I do this to myself? I guess because it’s all a part of being a writer, highly and deeply unpaid, with decent skills. I feel I needed to re-introduce myself and get all my poetry in one place other than my blog. Hence, the main reason why I’m rewriting my old ones and including new ones as well. The same will go for flash fiction and short stories. It’s looking like my second novel idea isn’t moving as fast as I’d like. OH WELL! My new favorite mantra is this: IT WILL GET DONE WHEN IT GETS DONE! These two collections will be free to read as an e-book and undecided if I want to turn them into print on demand copies. As I jumped ahead, I made my own covers and finished them today. I took pictures that were once recognizable and now not so much. I figure this will hopefully translate into a handful of strangers reading them and then my novels once I publish them (for a price). My sweat, blood, and tears have to count for something as I’m still chugging along for the ride called life.
March 3, 2020: Journal Entry Type: Do I Need Teeth? I Guess I Do!
This all started because as much as I know I need to see the dentist twice a year and at one point four times a year, I hate going to the dentist including today. Why because my teeth suck! I was given an electric toothbrush a long time ago as a gift, but the dummy I was I rejected it. Fast forward to about 24 years later and I just bought a Oral B electric toothbrush because the person who cleaned my teeth recommended one. I admit I don’t floss every day and I need to do this because what I went through sucked even more. While it won’t replace everything I’ve lost including the enamel on my teeth from brushing too hard, eating citrus fruit as if they were going out of style, and grinding my teeth/clenching my jaw.
They had to shoot Novocain into my mouth and I felt pain again as she cleaned my teeth, but this time I had inflammation of my gums. I paid more money because it’s worth it to me and had a laser treatment cleaning as well. I sometimes want the dentist to yank all my teeth out. Yet, I don’t want to be sucking breakfast, lunch, and dinner through a straw the rest of my life. It would probably cause more problems than less for me. This is my promise to myself to floss my teeth every day. I will try to not think how many times I need to have Novocain inserted into my gums until I’m the age of retirement and beyond. I want my dentist back I had as a child. I hardly felt the Novocain when he did it. Now, it just hurts really bad. I use toothpaste for sensitive teeth including a prescription I should use more. On that note, I will depart with a tip to angle your toothbrush (what I learned today) so you can get at your gum line and not just front of your tooth. Good if you do that already because I clearly was out of the loop.
February 28, 2020: Journal Entry Type #33: Time Passes By
It’s funny how time passes quickly. I was living in another state, California that is in 2017, and wondering when I’d make a move from there. I had no idea where I wanted to move, just somewhere else. I loved living in CA, but it was time to go. I lived in a one bedroom apartment in the Valley (I feel this was preparation for moving to even a hotter place). Now, I live in a two bedroom apartment with a garage full of empty boxes and a car. Here, I am almost two years later when June hits this year I will have lived in Nevada. Two fucking years. It’s almost March. Time is moving by real quick. I started this blog, hoping to interact with people from all over the world. It was a place to put my artwork and writing in one place. This wasn’t a way for me to make extra money because I already have a full time job. Now once I finish my novels, then there’s the opportunity to purchase them, but even then you know I’m not going to be rolling in the money anytime soon or at all. That’s not the point to my writing although profit is always nice.
According to my timeline I should have already written my final draft of my love story at the end of 2017. Fast forward to 2020 and I’m going to have to do a third rewrite after I get it back from my roommate because if my goal is to make it easier and better to read, I have to put forth the work. I hope to be done by 2020. This story has been with me for far too long and not to see any tangible result I can hold in my fucking hands is a little aggravating. I’m ready. Give it to me. Getting older does help with patience, but I don’t want to be that person who writes only one book in her lifetime. I can’t compare myself to others either who have written 50 novels not including other works they have done, but sometimes I feel I should do more. If I can get done with my five major novel ideas and adequately turn the last five original novel ideas into novellas or short stories, it will be a miracle. The problem is I can’t hope for a miracle. I know what it takes and what I have to do. I have to put forth the work and that means less movie watching and other mindless things and more writing.
The good thing is I’m starting to feel a little more energy, but still will be surprised if I don’t have sleep apnea. I’m going to work on my two sisters story tomorrow. I also decided to self publish where readers can read for free my first poetry collection and my first short story/flash fiction collection with hopefully some new poems and short stories/flash fiction this year. I’m sure some have already read some of the them, but I’m going to reread some of them and see how to make them better. Expect some changes is basically what I’m saying, but don’t expect much change in others. I decided to revamp my book ideas list, which I have already done once somewhere in a past blog post. It’s entertaining and gives you a perfect example of my procrastination or whatever you want to call it. The changes are in red and you will notice I had a different format on my blog, which is why the different font sizes. Enjoy.
And as the saying goes, that’s all folks. If my revised timeline works, I should have, at least, my five novels done by 2030. Then, it’s all down hill from there. Just kidding. The one thing I know is my stories will be done when they are done (give or take a few years and hopefully no more than five). Thanks for sticking with me.
February 24, 2020: Journal Entry Type #32: Sort of the Last Weekend in February
I haven’t forgotten about my blog. I spent Saturday watching how Nevada caucus would turn out. Bernie Sanders won with the most delegates, Joe Biden came in second although if he can catch up to Bernie remains to be seen. He has a tall mountain to climb, meaning South Carolina, and if he can come in first that still might not solidify him to be the winner after Super Tuesday. I spent Sunday going to a special massage I get once a month and then relaxing for the rest of the day via coloring. You would think I would know by now filling in objects takes time. I plan on working on my blog this week and trying to catch up. I thought about how I hadn’t posted last weeks facts yesterday and honestly I didn’t care too much. Isn’t that what Monday’s for? I plan on attempting to exercise after work tonight despite me being dizzy this morning. Lately, I’ve been having moments where it feels the street is moving and I’m getting buzzing in my ears more and more. Not good, I know. I need to see a doctor. The story of my life. My roommate is still reading my first story and making suggestions to make it better. This is good as I want it to be the best it can be, but not so good when it comes to me spending even more time on it. The main reason I wrote this is to say don’t forget about me. Two different people sent me two very different things last week on my phone. One was a drawing of me by my roommate and the other was a rabbit graphic from a friend. Rest assured I have tons more to share on this blog including these two photos. Which is the best one? Who knows.
February 18, 2020: Journal Entry Type #31: Troubling Or Not, I Am Still Here
I admit I’ve been struggling lately with my life, mainly my facial pressure and headaches, not to mention the ringing in my ears. Why I’ve been blowing my nose for two months straight now without having a major cold or flu is beyond me. It’s irritating to say the least. My arthritis is acting up and I’m still waiting to see my ENT for get results on my medical issues from last year. Enough of this particular bitch fest.
There are still things I thought I had processed, gotten over, thrown away in the mental garbage only to come back full force. I don’t understand why people can’t see certain things right in front of their faces. Can’t we do better than fighting among each other politically? Can’t we do better than having Trump in the White House? I mean this is all seriousness. I spent last Saturday standing in line to vote for who I want to be the Democratic nominee in the upcoming Presidential election.
While three hours seemed like six hours, I was willing to stand in line to vote early. I’ve never taken part in a caucus and nor do I want to be in one. I will vote for whomever is nominated by the people, but if s/he loses, there will be hell to pay and not just from her or his passionate believers. It will be from all Democrats and everyone else who changed party lines to defeat Donald Trump in November. There is no illusion in me that his passionate believers are just as passionate as Bernie Sanders. I sometimes wish it was already November so I could get on with my life.
It’s been a little nerve racking and I’ve found it hard to do such things as reading, coloring, writing, and exercising. My roommate finally started reading my first novel idea and already has given suggestions but this is only for the first chapter. I made a face when he said some parts went by too quickly and others needed more description. I thought back to how I had taken out some description as I thought I added too much in. I’m a little miffed at the task of rewriting this whole thing again, but I want to publish it so I need to to do it. I’m also a little miffed I’m not churning out my second novel idea as quickly as I’d like and how quickly the year is moving. Like my roommate said, this is what writing is all about and don’t rush something that isn’t ready.
I really hope to get back into my groove again, but I’m finding it hard to find the motivation. I feel like I’m in a deep frustrating slump. I find myself protesting the things that would help me. I feel entitled to sit on my ass since everything on my body seems to be working against me right now. I keep saying every Sunday, tomorrow is the day to get more routine in my life I used to have. But then I think, I didn’t this mountain of crap going on physically back then and my brain seems to be have changed. When can I retire? Oh yeah, that’s right, not for a long time.
February 17, 2020: Book Writing Exercise
You are a camp counselor. Make up a story that will scare the bejesus out of of your eight-to ten-year-old campers.
When I was around your age, I too went camping with my friends. We had convinced our parents we were old enough to handle it. Boy, were we wrong. By the end of the night, we all realized how wrong it all was, but it was too late. We shouldn’t have left our beds. We should have obeyed our curfew. We should’ve brought more flashlights into the woods.
We had already stuffed our faces with roasted marshmallows when I heard something in the woods. It was faint, at first, and no one else heard it. When I told everyone to be quiet, they said I was being a cry baby. I said no more, half turning my body so I could look out of the corner of my eye for danger. I was going to protect my friends no matter how stupid they thought I was acting. It wasn’t about thirty seconds later when I heard the noise again. It got louder and stopped.
This time Marcus, sitting next to me, heard it too. He turned around and grabbed my arm. When I stood up, he stood up with me. I searched for anything out of the ordinary, but couldn’t see anything, and this sent a shiver up my spine. I quickly turned back and told my friends, roasting their hotdogs, that we needed to leave. Their responses were amounted telling me to shut up and quit ruining the night.
Jacob was in the middle of telling his own story about how he was going to make out with Melissa at the next dance when his hotdog exploded in the fire. He jumped up, thinking it was cool, and grabbed another from the plastic bag. After he jabbed it on the stick, he stuck it over the fire, rotating it slowly. He screamed in pain, dropped his stick, and when we asked him what was wrong, he couldn’t formulate words. Everyone was laughing at him, thinking it was a prank, but he kept patting his pockets.
I shined a flashlight on him and to my horror blood was spilling out of his jean pockets onto the ground. Soon his face had no color and his body shrunk to the size of a flagpole. His flesh fell off his bones and on his face too. The only thing remaining were his eyeballs. They were darting back and forth until they fell out too. The last thing he did was collapse and land on a broken log that shattered his bones. I couldn’t see what happened next because my flashlight went out and the fire had died out somehow. I heard my friends scatter in all directions.
I was mad at my friends for not believing me and not sticking together. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when I tripped and my hand braced itself onto something wet. It wasn’t a fallen tree and knew it was someone’s leg. It was a dead leg. A dead leg belonging to one of my friends. A severed dead leg with bone exposed was what I felt. By the time I got to the edge of the woods, my jeans and shirt were stained with blood and then I heard the same noise from before.
I ran fast as I could and when I turned around, no one was there. To my knowledge no one made it out of there alive except me. I haven’t seen Marcus since that night and no one ever found the bodies of my friends. I doubt the thing out there will come back and kill me, but there’s one thing I know for sure, I’m much safer when I’m around kids.
January 22, 2019: Flash Fiction: Where Are You?
Trina knew it was easy to chase someone down when that person had wronged you. She also knew it was harder to leave the person alone when you were right all along. This was what she was dealt when her brain stopped overthinking. It was wet outside. Her feet were cold and the words she said prior to the realization of his errors made her tighten her leg muscles. These unforgivable words with hurtful meanings made her feel even colder and this hatred might never have a chance to die. She was secretly heartbroken when she hopped in her car to chase after him.
That was her knee she banged on the coffee table when she stepped into her living room without any lights later that night. It sent her into a rage, overturning the table and the contents on it. Her legs burned as she sat for an hour, in the same position, stunned at how her rage had gotten the best of her in the dark. When she stood, the opening in her heart that made her feel rotten closed up. Her body stiffened as her legs before and it was time to sleep.
The next morning her right index finger hurt and not because she banged it on the edge of something. She could not remember what had happened to it. Maybe, when she picked up the upside-down table and hurled it across the room? Maybe, when she slapped the refrigerator door because it didn’t shut as quickly as she wanted. “You’re a fucking psycho. I didn’t sign up for this shit,” he yelled. These were the last words she heard as he drove away. She never caught to him and had no idea where he had gone. She found herself driving up and down streets, thinking God was on her side, that a miracle would occur. It never did and eventually she stopped by a liquor store.
When the table collided with the picture of him, she vowed to keep no matter what happened between them, she was adamant he had little awareness of how selfish he had become. “It wasn’t my fault he ran away scared. A real man would stay and fight for me.” She wanted answers and would make a surprise visit to his house by early afternoon. This was the least he owed her for him leaving. She fished for her Android in her purse and scrolled through her contacts to his name. Her right index finger hovered over the phone button knowing she would never get the satisfaction she deserved.
January 8: 2020: Journal Entry Type #30: Beginnings and Endings
I feel like a have a seesaw in my head with a string attached to it. It goes back and forth from one topic to another. I call it diarrhea of the brain. Not a great image but a phrase I came up with all by myself. I have other phrases I use in life, but they won’t be included in this blog. Ever since I’ve finished my rewrite, I’ve been excited to start my next novel idea and I did a few days ago. After I was done writing a good five pages, I was still tired but wider awake mentally. It kept me up that night. I’ve been purposely not going on my personal FB because I have friends who post political stuff morning, noon, and night. As I suggested to one of them, get a hobby of some kind. I know my retirement isn’t going to be about gambling my money away, trolling the internet, and doing whatever else that doesn’t include being creative and reading and traveling if my body is up for it. I’ve thought about the wildfires in Australia and surrounding areas and how absolutely tragic it is for estimated 500 million animals already dead on the 26 million acres already burned. I’ve thought about the thousands of homes that have been incinerated and people who have died in these fires. All this damn suffering and the smoke inhalation Australians are encountering all over the place. I can’t believe people debate the futility of wishing and praying for those in need versus something like donating money or volunteering your time to help in some way. Not everyone has the ability to give money and not everyone wants to say a prayer or wish, but those that do, well let them. Aren’t there worse things than that? I get practicing what you preach and someone repeatedly saying how bad something is but sitting on millions of dollars and hoarding his or her money as if it’s not enough, yeah that’s pretty selfish. The money you make should be used in whatever way you want it, but in today’s worldwide social media, it’s an eyesore more than ever. I donate when I can and I get the principle of social influence, but there are times when pressuring people looks bad even on social media. I ended up giving money to the candidate I want to be the one to go opposite Donald Trump in the 2020 U.S. Presidential election, but now I’m being hounded morning, noon, and night to give more money. I wish that whenever I breathed, I had money. Since that’s not possible, I don’t have the luxury to keep giving money every week of every month until November. I wish I did, but I don’t.
How does this relate to the title of this entry? It does in this way. I have great novel beginnings or so I think when I write them. I introduce a character, his or her problem, the location, and the gist of what this person is dealing with. It should capture the reader’s attention and then convince him or her to keep reading. This is what all writers want for their books. The more that reads my books, the more my hard work paid off. As I glanced over my printed copy of my rewrite, I thought I’m not that bad of a writer. There’s nothing I can do about it except wait because my roommate wants to finish reading his Stephen King book he’s nose deep into and if I could find a way for him to read it faster, I would. I want to know now, but now isn’t an option. So, I’ve learned to have even more patience. There’s a saying that no book is ever really finished and while this is fine and dandy in the philosophical sphere, as a creative writer, I want an ending because I like solid endings. It may not be the one readers want, but most novels of mine will have a solid ending. It’s sometimes hard to contain my excitement for getting something done even knowing it’s not “fully” done yet. It’s hard not to get excited at the prospect of knowing that by the time I am 65 years old because I’ve disciplined myself I will have more than a few books self-published. I don’t want to be the one and done kind of writer. I don’t want to be the writer that half asses it just to get it out there. It will all come in time and whatever work needs to be done, my first book will be self-published this year because as much as I like freedom within the writing process, I also like deadlines and this deadline must happen.
While there is a beginning and end on some level with writing, there’s a cyclic movement on another. It’s finding the peace in the writing and rewriting process and once it is actually published, not giving your soul to the criticism because not everyone will like it. But, others will like it and this is what you grab and hold onto because these days people love to be shit starters for the hell of it. It was your brain that conceived the idea, your fingers that hit the keyboard, your sanity that probably was lost along the way, and your hard work from start to finish. For the next twenty some years, it will be much of the same process for me of writing, rewriting, waiting, rewriting, making sure the formatting is correct, paying someone to proofread it by someone who doesn’t have fucked up eyes like I do, getting a good photo for the cover, and being satisfied when it’s finally done and not going back but forward when I second guess my abilities. I’m constantly sitting in the middle of many cycles and I’m for the most part fine with it. My mom will ask me if I’m happy now and then and while I’m not bouncing off the walls with excitement, I am the happiest I’ve ever been. I look forward to stepping out of my shadow and putting myself out there more in 2020 and beyond.
January 5, 2020: Journal Entry Type #29: Oh Me, Oh My!
Oh me, oh my, for how tired am I! I would like to say welcome back to myself to WordPress. It’s been a whole five days not looking at my blog in the New Year. I’m dealing with a major cold right now on top of needing to find a doctor to read my sleep test results and find a new doctor who will turn in referrals so I don’t have to wait another three months for my other problem. I expected a lot better from UNLV medicine, but onto equally important topics like writing. While I might have rushed my rewrite for my love story, I finished it yesterday and printed it today. This version will be critiqued by my roommate. No matter what suggestions he makes, I plan on self-publishing it this year. I’m also going to start my second novel idea soon, so it can be finished in 2020, revised and self-published in 2021. Then onto the next one, my trilogy that might just be one book but I’ll have to see when I get there. I ended up playing Jenga this weekend along with binge watching Orange is the New Black, coloring one of my many designs, and reading the many books next to my bed. The second week of January begins tomorrow and as I inch closer to certain things and farther from others, time and money continues to be weird phenomenons. All I can do is carry on and keep drinking ice tea while trying to get my life more together.
This is what I call SLOW PROGRESS!