Forever and A Day

It's been over a year since the last post. I did not carry out the plan for June 1, 2025 and after. I did not start writing regularly again. Any fiction that was written was very sporadic and nothing led to a finished piece of writing. Life took different turns that left me with little headspace for writing new stories. After a while, I was left with only regular writing habit: journaling.

I could write something in my journal just about every night. I've kept journals for years now. Yet, I've failed to have the same approach to writing. Other subjects attracting me or maybe I should distract me. I've tuned into a current events again. I've been listening to all sorts of podcasts while working just to add a bit of flavor to the monotony of the kind of daily I work that I do to make a living. That is, if you want to call it that.

So, I still haven't been much of writer for a long time. 

Here I am not and I'm wondering what it is I'm doing other than writing about writing. 

I have well and truly lost my bearings in the fiction writing space. More so, I think, because I'm just not reading as much fiction as I once did. I do still read books but my pace of finishing them has slowed way down. 

Since the last post, I opened up a new publishing venture since I had closed the previous one but after more than a year operation, I've done little more than republish a handful of my works. In this case, a few stories and a novella. Based of my current thinking, I will likely be closing this LLC as well and not starting another. I've found that I just don't want to mess with publishing right now. Especially since I haven't been creating new works to publish.

Instead, I am just sitting in the silence that comes after one kind of interest fades into the dark background of life. This is after months of agonizing and feeling guilty about not pursuing that kind of creative work. But nothing ever really stirred me into action. A cloud of apathy has sunk over me and go days without thinking or caring about writing. 

Whatever course or path I'd been trying to travel has just not be the right one for me. I don't know what this means about being a fiction writer going forward. I don't know if I'm just done chasing that dream or if this is but a first step forward in forging an whole new trail through the great wilderness.

Maybe I'll be back here to share more about this new path... if I begin to follow it. 

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.