Once Upon A Time... I Was A Storyteller

 Once upon a time... I used to write fiction.

Then life and circumstances got in the way of that noble pursuit and I also got lost in the world of ghostwriting for a time. In time, I ceased taking projects that meant writing fiction for others to claim as their own for a pitiful amount of money, and I didn't go back to my own writing.

I basically stopped completely--other than a few tiny bursts--for months. As of this writing, I still haven't returned to those lands of make-believe in which I once found joy and amusement in wandering.

There have been times when I've wondered if I would ever write a story again. Will I be able to recapture the joy of storytelling and fill it with renewed vigor? Or is it too late? I've had serious doubts. The longer I've been away from the habit of writing, the bigger those doubts have grown. 

 I've lost my way, perhaps.

But it might be that I can find the path, get back on it, and set off on some fantastic new journey. I just have be open and willing to try. So... that's what I've decided. I'm even going as far as announcing on this mostly defunct blog of mine. Writing fiction isn't something I want to regret casting aside in later years. A recent birthday has cast this in a vivid light. 

On June 1, 2025, I will come back into this office, sit at this desk, and start writing make-believe. This is about putting words on the page, stacked in rows one on top of the next, until I get page. Then I'll do it again. In some ways, I'm starting all over again. I've gotten out of the habit. I'll have to set aside the time and sit here until something happens. That's all the pressure I'm going to put on the process other than this largely obscure announcement. 

Let's see what I can.

Update: A New State of Personal Affairs

Several months have passed since I have written a single word on this blog. Glancing back at the previous post from September 30, 2024, I would say that it is an understatement to say that things did not pan out like I had hoped. Instead of returning to my writing, I fiddled around with a few final ghostwriting projects before really throwing in the towel for good. I did some sporadic fiction writing throughout October and November before ceasing writing altogether in early December. At the beginning of this month, I made a very weak return to fiction, beginning work on a short story but soon ground to halt once again. 

What else happened in the last few months of 2024? 

I took a part-time cleaning job in mid-October and continued to drive as a DoorDash driver, doing both for a time. I also applied for a job at a health insurance company through a friend's suggestion and got hired as a claim technician and started that job in mid-November. Out went dashing but I kept the cleaning gig. At the time of this post, I am winding down that job. 

So Far, So Good

I am all in working a full-time, 40 hours a week day job. It is not something I would ever thought I would do again. But my circumstances demanded that kind of change. I was sinking further into financial crisis and the stress was taking a serious toll. So far, I find I can tolerate the insurance job reasonably well. It's mentally taxing but not overly-so. Most of the time anyway.

Yet this leaves me wondering about any sort of serious return to fiction writing. There are days when I feel like the ride is over and that it is time to get off. Or, put another way, it may be time to pack those things away and move on with my life. I just feel hopeless about the whole project from time to time. Still, there are days when the enthusiasm of my little muse is there waiting, or maybe begging, for the chance to let loose. 

I don't really think I'm done with the writing life. It's more that I'm trying to find a new entry point. This is difficult sometimes though when other areas of my life intrude so heavily into such musings. In many ways, I'm still in the process of regaining my footing and looking closely at how I've lived life so far these nearly 47 years,

I'm evaluating and assessing things. I'm contemplating the idea of counseling to help straighten out a few things about my inner life. I've always been to worry and scrutinize things but a little outside perspective might be handy at this point. There are activities that I've had to admit are becoming more harmful, emotionally, than helpful.

One of the more recent turns has come in the realm of social media. 

Stepping Back from Facebook

Almost a week ago, I deactivated my Facebook account. 

There wasn't any single thing that precipitated this move. It wasn't even the first time I had done this in recent months. Yet it was something I had been thinking about on and off when I realized that just being on the platform and scrolling through the feed was dragging down my mood and adding to my anxiety and sense of loneliness. Worse still, I was coming to grips with the fact that I didn't really many true friends to point to from my Friends List. 

I was just another lurker on Facebook. There was no point of engagement for me unless I was sharing content and generally wasting time doing so. This became especially true when I was seeing more ads and suggested content than anything relevant or meaningful from anybody on that list of friends. What I did see made me feel sad and lonely more than happy or entertained. 

Facebook, so-called social media, is useless for having really social interaction and a sense of community and friendship. Even now I have no one, no circle of friends in my local area, to eat dinner with or spend time together. (I'd also add that the same is true for any kind of writing community.)

Other than the time I get with my children, I am alone most of the time. And that is eating away at me.

Now, of course, removing Facebook from my daily life, leaves a hole that I am trying to fill with genuine, live interactions with human beings. I'm on a quest for strong friendships even as I wonder whether more intimate companionship with some special lady is something I could see again. 

I suppose this line of thinking might explain why the escapism of fiction writing has fallen down the list of priorities in recent times. Real life is just intruding too strongly for that but I would like to think I can find a way back to it anyway.

I am not sure how long this season without Facebook will last. I am trying to evaluate the effects over time. Then I'll make a more permanent determination. 

What's Next?

I don't have an answer to that question right now. And maybe that's okay.

I think it is saying something that I decided to come back to this blog to make some report or accounting of my whereabouts. Other than the hand-written journal I still keep, this is the first long-form written communication I've made in quite some time. 

I'm just trying to be real with anyone who still sees these posts. I still maintain the hope that I will swing back around to fiction writing and maybe taking a bigger swing at adding to my own body of work now that ghostwriting is officially in the rearview mirror.

I guess I'll have reasons to return to the blog. Part of me likes that idea. We'll see.

Where Things Stand Now

So, where do things stand nearly four months later?

I learned some costly lessons when it came to making an ill-fated dive back into ghostwriting. I left that crossroads and ambled down the same silly path that brought me there in the first place. I thought maybe I could tackle those work-for-hire books with a different attitude or approach. Turns out that I was seriously, comically wrong about that. 

I wasted time with that rather than plotting out a proper return to my own work. Why? It was the prospect of money that did it in the end. I wanted to be a working writer but on not the best terms just so I could stay in the vicinity of writing. The pay wasn't great but it was a smidge better than I had been making.

The big problem was that I was trying to be in two places at once. I've been doing DoorDash to bring in more money but when I got behind it became more expedient to drive because I got money much faster than I would if I was sitting in a chair writing. 

Not that there aren't two edges to this particular sword.

I couldn't do both successfully and there were costs to dashing that worsened some financial problems by creating vehicle maintenance costs, etc. Only recently have I tried to address this by returning to my roots in the commercial cleaning business. However, I'm just dipping a toe on those waters just now. I'm not sure whether to ramp up that source of income so I can get off the road, and with any luck, spend more time in the writing chair. 

With it being the end of September and all, I've resolved to make a return to my own writing again and move in that direction so I can start publishing my work again. 

Tomorrow, October 1st, is my official restart day. My goal is to write fiction consistently for here on out, meaning everyday. 

Meanwhile, I will look for better ways to address the income issues that persist. Believe me, I would rather not be a real-life example of the 'starving artist' cliche. 

Writer at a Crossroads

Maybe you could call this an update. I'm not sure I really have much to update anybody about but at least I can spend a few moments running over my state of mind right now. It's been a bit since I wrote anything I would call a blog post let alone anything interesting enough to relate here for those who still read my missives.

I've said previously that I'm done with ghostwriting. But, thing is, I didn't completely stop writing books on a for-hire basis. I wrote a few that way before I just hit a colossal wall related to the process. I initiated involvement in several books projects and ultimately ended the contracts before they even began simply because I just didn't want to write books that I would never be able to claim again and certainly would never gain anything monetarily. 

The kind of ghostwriting I was able to land did not pay good rates. I was lucky to get a penny a word, maybe two cents. 

Bottom line: People do not want to pay writers. You know the people that make their dreams possible as publishers and make them money. Content creators are constantly getting shit on. I just can't believe people still paying such paltry amounts for original fiction. More importantly, as a writer, we are just handing over all our rights to stories and copyright for basically nothing. It's the worse kind of business thinking. 

And I've succumbed to it too just because I've needed the cash. I hate that it comes down to this. But it has... and more than once. At this point, I've taken on gig work like DoorDash just to avoid seeking out a more standardized job. I'd rather not be beholden to somebody else's schedule and demands. But I can't quite make such work substantial enough to pay bills so I'm always drawn back to ghostwriting. 

But what about my own books, you might be asking. 

Ah, that's the worst part.

I've not been writing much at all when it comes to my own fiction. I've started a small town romance but it's been in limbo mostly because of all the other books I've done in between. Instead of concentrating on my own work I've been a damn ghost. 

I put the breaks on everything lately and actually stopped to take a good look at where I'm at in life here lately. Yeah, it was probably spurred on by my 46th birthday, but it needed to happen. 

I need to stop and recognize that the path I'm on right now is the wrong one. The question is, what's the right path for me at this point.

My life is in something of a shambles right now and I need to find a way to set things right. That's the truth. 

So, here I am, a confused guy but also still writer, looking for a way to make those very old dreams come true and actually make a living a fiction writer. But on my own terms.

Anyway, maybe I'll come back to the blog with more thoughts as I attempt to sort this mess out.