Blade Runner 2049 movie poster
That’s a U2 song. 10 points if you got it.
I’m…here. Surviving. Trying. I guess.
I’ve had a tough time battling my Depression and Anxiety, and there have been some pretty sad family issues over the past few months. I haven’t written much. But those aren’t really the reasons I haven’t picked up the pen… I feel pretty worthless as far as being a writer goes.
I keep reading stuff by other [better] writers and getting rejection letters, so my self-esteem is pretty much at the bottom of the barrel right now. All I want to do is tell stories, you know. Save people. All this is such a broken record if you’ve followed this blog…
I finally saw Blade Runner 2049 the other night. The original Blade Runner is one of my favorite movies of all time. This sequel is right up at the top of the list now, too. I don’t know; I watch stuff or listen to music and it does something to my brain and my heart that makes me want to try again–try telling my stories again, I mean. You put that soundtrack and story together and well, I guess I am inspired again. I am now inspired to work on my sci-fi novel and maybe even some short sci-fi pieces.
But it’s in a sad sort of way. Like, “what’s the point?” I know they’ll make me happy to write, but half the reason I write is to bring joy to other people. And at the rate I’m going, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that at the level I want to. I’m losing faith in myself, I guess. Or maybe I’m just ultra-depressed right now.
I have lots of short stories out at mags and I’m still waiting to hear back on the Novel That Will Get Me Published at the newest pub. company I sent it to. It’s only been 3 months, so I probably have some more waiting to go.
Anyway, I guess I’m off to dream.
I’ve dropped the ball on updating this. That’s not very professional. Though, I don’t suppose I really want to fake being some stuffy, “professional” writer; I’d rather just be myself. That’s a can of worms.
Despite a multitude of other shite going on, I am amped and thoroughly stoked in the writing department. I edited and revamped The Novel That Will Get Me Published. I am really excited about it. I’m sending it off to a new indie pub that I really like. I’m hoping for good things.
I’ve also begun work on a couple other novels that had been sitting at the wayside. Yeah, boiii. Really excited about that, too.
Also, I’m revisiting my sci-fi short story collection. I’ve decided to drop a couple of stories from it. I’m not happy with them and I’d rather not force the whole thing. I want to be pleased and ready with the collection. So, if that means I have to wait a little longer until I write a few better stories, let it be so.
Still waiting to hear back from some mags regarding prose I sent off. I suppose if I haven’t heard by now…. HA.
And, uh, I’ll try to get back into the swing of things here. Though I’m not promising anything this month because it’s the NCAA tourney and well, March Madness… you know.
So that publisher rejected my ms. Not altogether surprising, I know. But, eh, it’s okay; it was rad that they even asked to read it….Also, I’ve already sent a query to another one. (I got a list a mile long! The industry will be so sick of my name after I’m through with it! HA.)
The rejection doesn’t even bother me (though it sucked). I’m bothered by my own creative apathy. Not sure what’s going on, but I can’t and don’t want to write anything. Except I have tons of ideas. I just don’t want to write any of it because I think there isn’t any point; it’ll only come out like shit anyway. Stupid reason….The whole shebang is kind of like being stuck in a jail cell, except you’re not really stuck because the door’s wide-open, and you could escape if only you took a step.
Reading all your stuff is rather inspiring. (Though, also more depressing because your stuff is helluva lot better than mine.) So, maybe I’ll try to write something. NaNoWriMo is coming up, too, and I’d really like to do it this year instead of making up grandiose excuses for why I can’t do it. What am I gonna do instead? Watch TV? Nothing good is on anymore…’cept “The Black List.” That show’s cool.
Also, I’ve been binge-Netflixing (that’s a fun word) “Luther.” Check that shit out. Now.
“Dear JCD Kerwin,
Thank you for sharing your query for [title of novel] with us. We would love to take a look at your manuscript….”
Hey, I did it. I finished The Novel that Will Get Me Published. It was kind of surprising, actually. Finished is around midnight, Monday morning this week. When I realized I was done, I just kind of stared at my computer screen for a while. I think the shock has worn of now…I think. Hey, come on, the thing took me eight years to write–but I did most of it in the past year. And now it’s done. The first book I wrote in a year; the second in five years. (Those ones suck. I don’t want to talk about those.) But this one is weird. It’s different. It’s…special. Aww. No, seriously, it is.
Now I can’t look at it for a couple days. But then I’ll go back and read it. Then I’ll start editing. I already know who I’d like to send it to for critiquing. Then after that: some more editing! Then it’ll be time to put together publishing packages [which I remember so fondly]. (Oh, look how excited I am! I’m already thinking of everything I get to do next! I’m happy as a lark. A darling lark!… ‘the hell kinda bird is a lark anyway?)
In honor, I suppose this poem is appropriate:
My pen writes
in a different way
each time I hold it,
as if to say,
“They’re not done yet.”
And my break’s over. Stay off drugs, kids.