Distress

Here we go again, with those crazy ups and downs of mine.

What are some things that always ruin your writing mood?

Because I'm still not in the position where I'm being paid to write - and therefore do not have a much more real motivator to actually do the writing - I continue to operate under the fickle mindset of either I do feel like writing or I do not feel like writing.

I know there are some people out there who will say this does not matter. As a wise, old, green, pointy-eared man once said, "Do or do not. There is no try." And this much is very true in most cases. The same could be said even about this case as well.

But I'm not necessarily talking about some kind of crazy whim that takes control of my mood and says, "Oh, you're going to play video games instead," and then I follow. No, I mean what happens when you are truly upset about something, and there is absolutely no possible way you could bring yourself to write.

A few things are happening for me right now. I am at the tail-end of a very stressful move to our new residence, and so everything is still so in-motion and not yet locked-down. Also because of this, I'm also very tired from all the physicality involved (which, let's be honest, I'm not used to). We'll add to being tired with a new second job I've taken up at nights on the weekend (which means, on Saturday, I'm working two full-time jobs) to render me absolutely exhausted. I don't want to say I'm complaining...but I suppose I am. But I need the second job right now.

Finally, a large amount of work I had been doing on the "Brothers" story I was writing is now missing. The only completed work I have so far is not even half of what was originally done. I'm not sure if it's saved in another location that I cannot find, or if I accidentally saved over the last draft with the one I currently have. Either way, that's causing a lot of hardship, though I guess I could choose to look at it positively and say that it's an opportunity for a fresh start (which I've already begun).

So put all of that together, and you have one incredibly stressed-out guy. I'm beginning to lash out at others around me for idiotic things, I'm always tired, and I'm hating my job right now. I miss my friends, and I'm seriously sick of boxes. The good news is, after today, the move should be finished.

I wrote a short that I want to share, and will soon, about my frustrations with my job...and how my problems are laughable compared to the hardships of others. I'm actually pretty proud of what I did, because I was very truthful and revealing about myself. I ended up slightly hating the story because of how honest it was.

I'll probably post it up here soon, who knows?

Recovering

I'm trying to climb my way out of this funk. I'm not well-equipped to handle this amount of anger and depression.

What usually cheers you up?

So, from my last blog post, you may know that I've been a bit down lately. Well...it's been a real roller coaster this past week. I'm finally looking at the light at the end, but it's so bright that I can't tell how far ahead of me it actually is. So I don't know how far I'll have to go to reach it.

Basically I'm saying I don't know what I have to do to reach that happiness again.

Sterling Gates's Kid Flash Lost #1

J.T. Krul's Teen Titans #100

I've tried this. I've tried that. It all seems so up in the air. I have some things I'm looking forward to this month, and I'm sure I'll have a good time with those. I'm meeting DC Comics writer J.T. Krul (Teen Titans, Green Arrow, Captain Atom), and seeing writer Sterling Gates (Kid Flash Lost, Hawk & Dove) again, this Wednesday in Pasadena. I'm extremely excited about that. I also have a Chevelle concert the following Wednesday (and another meet-n-greet with J.T.).

That next Sunday, I'm flying out to Ohio to see my Mom...and then we're driving back to California together so she can live with us for a little while. I'm also very excited about this.

I'll be getting my own personal netbook next month, something I can carry with me places and whip it out whenever I feel like writing. Something to store all of my information on so that I can have it all in one, organized place.

"Nothing to show for it."

The beginning of November brings my birthday. I'll be a quarter of a century old. I'm not sure if that's something to be happy about or not yet...as I'm still struggling with that whole feeling of "having nothing to show for it" at this point (that's career-wise, mind you). How long is THAT lovely feeling going to last?

So I do have reasons to be happy. But last night and today, I was just SO ANGRY. It's like George Carlin said: I hate it when cashiers tell me to have a great day. What if I didn't want a great day? What if I had 364 good days in a row, and I just really want to have a shitty day?

It's like that. It's almost like I'm determined to have a bad day.

Last night, I felt so frustrated and destructive that I decided to try and be constructive with that energy, instead of internalizing it and causing myself emotional harm. I decided to take it out on the only kinds of people who can continually and silently take that kind of punishment: my characters. They take everything and anything I throw at them. I focused my writing anger into a writer character - for my next story idea. I wrote a quick scene in which the character, fed up with everything around him, contemplated and even attempted suicide in a heated emotional moment. But he chickens out. This turned into the scene that I want to start the screenplay with, maybe. And today, as I sat here, unusually pissed off at my work, I wrote more about this story...piecing the beginnings together.

It's turned into something that, while somewhat hollow still, I can go off.

So I'm trying to bring myself out of it. I'm trying to feel better. I want to feel better. But sometimes it's hard. It's difficult to just switch off angry mode. But...I have a couple days off now. My mid-week weekend starts tomorrow. It'll be good to unwind. Do some housework to keep my mind occupied. Then some more writing. Hopefully tomorrow I won't be wearing my angry face.

Cloistered

Trying to deal with a few things in my life right now, and I'm struggling with it.

How do your personal feelings affect your writing?

Today I wrote out everything that I'm feeling about myself, specifically. It's pretty lengthy. It started with me saying how, earlier today, I felt really sick. And I was wrapped up in my own head thinking about my wife. I don't think I'm ready to put down on this blog, so publicly, everything that I wrote about myself. Frankly, I'm a very private person when it comes to that kind of thing. I don't want people offering their advice, I don't want pep talks, nothing like that. They always feel so empty, for some reason. Like...obligatory. I don't want pity encouragement. I guess I'm one of those "scary" types, where I'm outwardly very okay...but internally, it's very different. I can tell because my Mom can tell. Whenever I talk on the phone with her, she can hear it in my voice if I'm a little down...and she'll ask me if everything's okay. I'm usually pretty honest with her, about being less-than-okay if that's the case. But, again, I'm very private. I don't tell everything.

I figure, these are my problems. Nobody else should have to deal with them. Hell, I barely want to deal with them, why should I put that responsibility on someone else? No, these are for me to work through. Now, all this talk may seem all dark and ominous, but I can assure anyone reading this...I am not the self-destructive type. I used to be. Back in middle school, I was very depressed and all of the pressures eventually got the best of me, and I broke down to some pretty frightening thoughts. Luckily, a friend of mine, Chris, was there to help pull me up. I will always remember that day, Chris, and I will always be thankful to you.

However, I still battle various forms of depression from time to time as my roller coaster of a mind dips and rises to all the extremes. Today seems to be one of those overwhelming days, where everything starts culminating into one gigantic monster that appears unbeatable. Issues with my own writing, situations at home, and questions about my own future. Everything is pressing in on me, cornering me, and like a wild animal I'm looking for a way out. But at least I'm still fighting it, right? I think that's where some of my sickness was coming from this morning, that internal conflict.

I want to be happy. I want people around me to be happy. I'd also like to be able to contribute to their happiness. I understand what needs to be done to become happy, but then another aspect of my mentality, my personality, kicks in and I become unmotivated to do what needs to be done. I become lazy. It's a vicious cycle, my friends. And thus I am stuck in this perpetual loop. Things get better for a little bit, and I get lazy, and things get worse. Then I get desperate, work a smidge, and become complacent when things are a little better. This process is my enemy. I need to eliminate it. I need to take responsibility for my actions, much like my character, Daniel. We both try to run from our problems, to mask them and block them with other things that make us happy. We try ignoring them completely. And then we're surprised when it comes up and bites us on the nose.

I wonder how much of a nose I'll have left by the time I finally learn my lesson and change my behavior for good.

Thanks for reading. I'm trying not to be so self-pitying with this blog lately. But if I don't put the words down, like I did earlier, I'll just go insane. My thoughts need to be expressed, organized, and exorcised. Here's to the best in all of us.

Certainty

I feel like I have to apologize...but I know even that serves into this self-pitying purpose that this blog seems to have become. I think I'm writing in it out of spite now. The apology mentioned is because of the last blog post. It came off a lot more "attention-whorey" than I wanted.

That post was a precursor to a near-and-total meltdown on my part.

I have not been dealing with a few issues in my life properly, and my writing has been a huge part of that. I had to come face to face with the demon in my life: the fact that I NEVER finish any of my projects. No matter what the cause (even though the causes are all me). This is something that's been plaguing me for years. Since well over a decade ago. And I always thought I had an answer, but apparently not.

When I first started writing, I knew my craft wasn't excellent. I was way too green. Hell, I still am in many ways. And I used to think that was it: that I wasn't experienced enough or learned enough to know how to complete a work. So I studied. I took courses. I read books. I filled my head with the process. Yet the problem remained. I thought it could possibly be the projects themselves - the subject matter. Was it not compelling enough for me? That may have been an infinitesimal fraction of the reason. Point is...I never figured it out.

I would get SO frustrated with myself! So angry! I would beat myself up psychically, wondering why I wasn't worth enough to FINISH something! WHY!? WHY CAN'T IT BE DONE?!!

Luckily, I have close friends and family to thank for helping me through my recent meltdown.

With their help, I learned that my problem with quitting comes from a couple different, related things. Because of my childhood, I apparently feel a need to make something of myself. To be known for something, and to have great accomplishments. This feeds into my desire for personal success. Because of my creative side, I've chosen writing as my outlet and road to that success that I crave. So what does that make me? A writer, of course. And that's how I defined myself. That's the second problem. A man shouldn't define himself by what he does...that leaves him with nothing, were that thing he does to disappear - or, in my case, not come to fruition.

I needed to figure out who I am. How am I defined? And what do I REALLY want out of writing?

I cannot define myself as any of these: "son", "husband", "friend", "employee", "writer". Because I could lose my parents, my wife, my friends, my job, and never become a published writer. So with that revelation comes, what I believe to be, the final truth. I am a creator, an entertainer, a teacher, and a helper. None of those things can be taken from me. Those are all things inherent in my personality, in who I exactly am. Even if I were to be the last person on this planet due to some incredible I-Am-Legend-related disaster, I can still create imaginatively...I can still entertain myself...I can still teach myself as I learn...and I can help myself through it all to the end. My desire, my drive to do all of those things will never subside, no matter where I am in the world.

Looking back over everything I've written in this post, I cannot help but feel an incredible happiness. I finally know who I am. I have faced the darkness within, looked my bare Self in the eye, and I didn't blink. There is no other feeling like this.

I am no longer a writer.

I am simply a man who writes.

Whether I become published, famous, well-known or anything of the sort - I will always love to write. That is my success.

Huh. The original title to this post was "Uncertainty".

I'm still going to write my Cleveland-based story about two brothers separated. I'm still going to write in this blog. I don't care if maybe only three people read it. I just don't know when that next time is going to be. This is an exercise. And apparently an exorcism. And that's helpful.

Overwhelming

My unproductivity from the last blog post has persisted.

It, along with a number of other things going on in my life, has driven me into a state of moderate depression.

Like most people in this economic climate, I am experiencing financial troubles. Thankfully, I have a job and a home and a wife with an equal income to mine. But certain situations have led up to us clinging to each dollar and cent we have. This will pass, of course, as it always does. I know this. We always get through. Sure, things will be stressful for a few weeks while we build everything back up...but it's still a very depressing state in which to be.

On top of that, and a couple other things, I'm having yet another creative crisis. This seems to happen to me very often, which worries me. I mean, is this going to affect my professional career, when the time comes that I'm writing on a schedule for a planned movie to start pre-production? There's that too: am I even going to get to that point?

That's what has me all upset. I feel like every day I slip further and further away from that life goal...that career that I so desperately want. I do want this for myself, for my future family, pretty much more than anything else. I know that. That is a truth.

So...why can't I do it?

What is keeping me from this stupid project? What is stopping me from writing? Why aren't I motivated? I KNOW I WANT THIS! So why am I not doing ABSOLUTELY everything I can to make it work? What's holding me back? I don't understand this! I'm afraid that I never will understand this! I'm scared that this is some kind of condition, sickness or complex, you know? Am I subconsciously keeping myself from success? From happiness? There's no real other logical explanation I can think of. Why would I do that? I've already mentioned that this is the thing I want...so why keep myself from it? Do I somehow feel I deserve punishment for something?

I really cannot figure this out. And it's frightening that I can't figure it out. I have the goal and the dream, and the desire. But what's missing is my drive and motivation, my determination. I even tried the ever-famous advice of setting a goal for myself, a time-frame in which to complete part of the project. But June is more than a quarter through now...and I'm not close to achieving that marker.

There's so much that's just frustrating me right now. And I'm having trouble reconciling everything. So here I am, pleading into the infinite and uncaring universe that something in me will change. That I will find some kind of reason, or understanding. That I will find my spark and turn it into an everlasting nuclear reactor of creative energy and drive.

I want to be hopeful. I want to be positive.

But I know myself.

Unproductivity

Well I had a three-day, Memorial Day weekend in which existed plenty of time to further my research. I did, at first, on Friday. I spoke with a family member who had further knowledge of crime in Cleveland back in the '60s. That was superbly helpful. But after that, I only really talked about the project twice during the whole weekend. And now, today, I'm paying the price for it. I'm beating myself up for my inactivity.

This is a dangerous point in the story-making process for me. This is limbo. This is that span of time in between serious story preparation and serious story writing where it's up to me to stay on top of the project, to make sure I'm doing everything I need to do, before I actually start writing. Many times in the past, I've struggled here with projects that never make it out of limbo...that are stuck in development hell.

So I'm at that point again with this story...and it's a story that I'm excited to write - I'm invested, I'm anxious. I want this to happen, to work. I want this story told. I've never felt this kind of fire in my chest for any past project. And I've always been excited about my past projects. Therefore the self-inflicted consequences of not getting this done are so much greater.

That all having been said, today I understandably feel awful. I feel like I squandered the weekend away with nonsense that won't amount to anything worth while. It definitely didn't contribute to the project or its progress. So what the hell was it for? Why didn't I work? Man, I hope I can get my head back on straight...because I can't stay this unhappy with myself for long. I don't want to depress myself.

My goal remains to have at least a first draft script ready and done by the end of July. I still think I can accomplish that, since I now have about two months to go. That's plenty of time to get the script written. Now it's just a matter of getting myself to actually do it. No more random bursts of accomplishment. No more small moments of success.

I'm in it to win it.

Dawg.

Sincerity

Go easy on me, this is my first blog post sent via email.

I have to ask myself today: Am I serious?

I've been talking about writing being a career of mine since high school, possibly before (sincerely, though, since high school). And here I am, with ample time to get some writing done on my project, doing anything but.

Instead I am passing my time browsing the puzzle games on the internet, and mastering my Sudoku skills.

Don't get me wrong, those activities are quite enjoyable. But you can't (strangely) make a career out of earning all the achievement badges on Kongregate.com. And if it's not that, then it's video games. Or TV. Or this and that, and this and that. So...the question begs asking:

Am I serious?

Do I have the drive to start a project and see it through? Do I have the determination to be able to STOP. AT. NOTHING...to get my ideas out to the public in the way I want? Do I sacrifice other activities, time doing other things I enjoy that are much easier than constructing a solid, compelling story; to dedicate my time to my work?

Right now, no. And that, folks, is depressing.

But why is that? I know I have only myself to blame. I'm well aware of my 100% involvement in my own despair. The question I have now is "why?" What is making me do this? Why is my drive so out of gas? I know I'm not tired of my story, not bored with my project - it's still a very exciting project to me! I love the story, I love the characters, and I love how they're growing and developing, right before my eyes.

And I am making progress. It's not like it's a stagnant, stale and static (yay, alliteration!) piece of junk that's just not going anywhere. It's taking shape. It's growing. It's becoming a full story, and I'm behind it! But I don't want to be the writer that makes a little bit of progress on his work every month and a half.

My goal set in my previous blog post, about finishing the written-story of my screenplay before going to bed that night?

Yeah, I fell asleep.

My goal to have, at least, a first draft of the screenplay finished by the end of July is looking more and more unattainable the more and more inactive I become.

So, WAKE UP, David! Get your ass in gear! Get it together! Get that damn story written! It's a story that needs to be told, needs to be heard, and needs to be seen! What is it going to take?! I NEED TO KNOW!

Here's to hard work, determination, and the will to have the life I want as a successful screenwriter.

Let's get this done.