8.528.

Lately I find myself channeling young me—the carefree and fearless writer who assumed he could write anything and anyone. He felt that Stephen King was a goal to be achieved; a level in a video game in which he was Player 1. I miss him and need him dearly. Writing is best when it is a challenge set forth against oneself and the reward is not wealth, but a sense of personal satisfaction at having achieved what you set out to do. When I coached track I coach my runners based around a singular philosophy: Your one goal is to do better than you did last time. The only person you need worry about beating is yourself. I believe in that sensibility. If I shift the wording ever so slightly it should apply to writing like so: Your one goal is to write a more complete story than you did last time. The only writer you need to be superior to is yourself. I believe that superiority complex is a flaw of mine and perhaps a fatal one. It has hamstrung me for many long years and left me feeling like I am not (and cannot become) the kind of writer I want to be.

I despise feeling trapped like that. I don’t want to feel stuck and topped out as a writer. Last night the Lady Talis and I watched The Invite and the line that stuck with me the most belonged to Seth Rogan who (without giving anything away) described himself as a failure. It struck home with violent force. I’m a failure as well. Two novels, neither of which cracked the top 100 in my genre. Close to 80 other publications across three role playing games (with a 4th on the way). This is success in the eyes of some, but I still feel like an imposter—a failure. I have not done a single thing that will last on in my mind.

The little kid I was never felt like that. He was a damn giant and a hero if only to himself. I need to find him within me again.

Some Thoughts:

  1. Absolutely Bonkers Headline of the Day: “A professional cornhole player and quadruple amputee is arrested for murder” No idea where to begin here…
  2.  Did not hit publish yesterday. Slippin.

8.527.

Just another manic… Thursday?

Today had strange energy throughout. I personally did little with it. I drank coffee. I walked around a bit. Had a burger. Now I am blogging. That’s basically the day since I got out of bed. I have not done anything. Not in the ‘don’t feel like it’ way, but in the actually let the day get away from me way. In truth, I didn’t even travel that much today–under 6 miles by my latest count. I’m going to need to manifest another walk to feel like the day wasn’t a total bust after bed.

Perhaps days like that are needed in life, but they tend to leave me or my partner feeling unsettled. I think when you realize your days are finite, blowing one carries more weight. When you realize you’re back on campus in 39 or so days, each missed one carries that much more weight. There is a gravitas to vacation we can get lost in but also churned up by. There can be the sense of missing out on a chance or a moment when you’re sitting there letting nothing become your way.

I thought I’d go see this grove of trees I like. We didn’t. So, maybe it isn’t like we had huge plans or anything.

Some Thoughts:

  1. Absolutely Bonkers Headline of the Day: “Failed asylum seeker families to be offered up to £40k to leave UK” Sorry you can’t stay, but we will pay you to go…
  2. Plenty of Yankee caps today. The morning was awash with them.
  3. Summer FB camp for the youngest started today. He’s shifting back into HSFB mode after all the college hoopla. A verbal offer is nice, but a bad season can wipe that away. He needs to show growth this season–especially if he intends to work both sides of the ball.