This is what happens when I'm working on a book, or in the past a screenplay: As I become a part of the world I’m creating, all other forms of writing get relegated to the way, way back of my mind. In this case it's a new novel, a supernatural romantic comedy that's been in collecting dust in my head since the late teens. I pulled it out in March when I felt I hit an wall on the other novel I've been writing since 2020. That one is a story I’m very passionate about, tracking the life and career of a woman DJ from the 1960s through the early 1990s and the popularization of alternative rock. After five years and hundreds of pages, I needed a mental break. That's how I started working on adapting an abandoned screenplay into a book. I had to write something.
Through years of therapy, I've discovered that if I'm not writing, even if it's a journal entry, I'm filled with anxiety and question my purpose. That's not to say that I feel my purpose in life is to be some important author. Believe me, the other half of my personality would never allow such grand thoughts (something else I've explored in therapy). What I mean is I've told people I'm a writer for so damn long that my mind and body expect something from me, that I should be using all those damn Bic pens and Mead notebooks and Moleskin journals I have stockpiling to put ink on paper. If I'm not writing, I get physically uncomfortable and struggle with being a failure. Whatever minor successes I've had are not good enough. I dismiss my accomplishments and tell myself I have to work harder, because unless I have a movie on a streaming service or a published book, what's it all for?
All of this is to explain why writing for Thunderbolt gets the shaft all the time. Considering the amount of time I spend on the Internet; this is a failure on my part. The trouble is, and this is another part of my anxiety, if I take time out of my busy day to write, I feel like I'm wasting time. Writing takes concentration, tapping into all the emotions and bullshit inside you in order to create. When I get into that zone, I just can't jump in and out. It's like jogging. If you're in the middle of running 5 miles and someone asks you to stop and work on a spread sheet, I lose the focus and motivation.
I'm going to try something new and use my journals (which have as many long gaps between entries as my blog posts do) to write pieces I want to publish on the blog. Why not? At least I'm getting my thoughts out and I'm more inclined to post something when the hard work has already been done.
I'm about to embark on a work sabbatical. Throughout June, I'll spend time in wine country, a week in rural Kentucky helping repair homes, a week driving around Tennessee with my best friend (Memphis here we come) and a week in Cleveland with my extended family. I plan to see some baseball, enjoy good food and drink, make new friends, relish my time with old ones, and hopefully have something inside me renewed. This is the perfect time to be documenting everything. Hell, if John Steinbeck can write about his road trips, why can't I?
That was a joke. I ain't no Steinbeck.
Aloha
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