Note to Self (235) Mondays

Hi all. I haven’t been blogging much given I’m experiencing a difficult gestation and birth of my novel the Truth Within. But today, I’ve decided to let off a bit of steam on this platform. I don’t like to usually rant – and I don’t take this post as a rant. Merely an opportunity to express myself and convey my thoughts – all personal so if you don’t agree, more power to you.

This year a lot of things have changed for me. I’ve undertaken a lot – I’ve been sober for more than seven months, and I’m working on my writing a lot, not that I ever forgot to write every day, but I’m trying to take my craft to the next level. I attended in July the RWA conference, and this was an amazing experience, that taught me a lot. Obviously, I met a lot of other writers – my competition. Did I feel threatened by them? Um. Not really. Everyone has their own styles, their own stories, and there’s really a spot for everyone out there granted the work they produce is worth reading. I’m not a writer who feels like I have to step on everyone’s toes to prove a point. I’ve heard the advice that blogging was a waste of time, that my writing shouldn’t be given for free, that I should focus on writing novels and putting them out for the world to see – either traditionally or self-published. The industry has evolved – and self-publishing offers a lot of freedom for free thinkers such as myself. I don’t want to stick to the mold. I wouldn’t write if I had to force myself to follow a certain trend, a certain genre, something people want because they’re used to it. I’m more of the type to write novel things – although I know I won’t reinvent the wheel – but my approach has always been to give people something they didn’t know they wanted until they read it. And that process is hard, because I have to think fresh all the time. I can’t copy and paste, recycle old stories and make them look like pure gold when I know deep inside, they’re crap.

I’ve come to writing because I needed an outlet. I’ve been writing since I was a kid, but my passion for writing doesn’t stop with words. It continues with screenwriting, and movie-making. Of course, at seventeen years old, I announced my father I wanted to go to film school. And he said I’d never make a living out of it. Not to disappoint, I followed his advice and followed a more traditional route. I really thought writing was just a whim. I really thought my passion for movies and screenplays would vanish to be replaced with more ordinary concerns. Well, I was wrong. For ten years, my passion did push-ups in the background. For ten years, my passion became more than a simple hobby. When I realized I was born to do extraordinary things, my world took a different direction. Not without pain, not without consequences. My drinking became out of control. I thought I could still be ordinary. But I can’t.

I wake up every day and follow the steps of millions of commuters, and we all enter our respective office buildings, and we work hard. I work hard in the corporate world, and when it’s time to go home, I put on my other writing hat and I follow my dreams. But there’s something within me that asks for more attention. The muse wants more time. And it hurts like hell to wake up every day knowing I can’t satisfy her to the fullest. I know I’m coming to a crossroad. I know I’m going to have to make a decision soon. And it scares the hell out of me. But I want it – I’m meant to do it.

I’ve let go of so much in my personal life – everything I do revolves around my art. I’m tired, no exhausted, but I keep moving. I keep pushing. This ordinary life doesn’t mean anything to me. And I know I speak like so many before me, and so many after me, but it’s true. My art is my life. Now I gotta make sure my life becomes my art.

Ty as always for reading.

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