Sometimes I think it is all a bit too much. With anxiety and depression, I often ask myself have I bit more then I can chew. I became a friend of inconsistency and doubt. But lately, one exercise helped to ease my mind. Only forward. That’s what I keep telling myself. Whenever a panic attack occurs, whenever anxiety gets the better of me, I just repeat in my mind, “Only forward.”
What it can be and what it should
Why do we always put the burden of what it can be? Throughout our life, every decision even before it’s made, is presented by our mind running all viable possibilities. How often we don’t even make the first step in our journey because we tend to overthink and focus on the 14th step of that same journey? Do we plan for the future too much that we neglect the present, our time to act? Like the stories we write, isn’t it better to focus on our current process, never focusing on the whole structure, caging the narrative, but knowing the basics of it, tucked somewhere in the back of our mind and let the story flow through its natural course? For life, for writing and for pretty much everything, shouldn’t we jump in the river and let the current do its thing, rather then overthinking what could happen and find ourselves left behind on the shore?
Why to write?
This is something I often ask myself. The doubt is always there, but somehow is the self criticism that gets the final nail. After writing “The Lonesome Road” (coming 2022) I found it hard not to “not” write, but to get behind what I wrote. Maybe it sounds crazy, I really don’t know (not overly sane myself so how should I know) but I wrote 5 WIP all to chapter 4 or 5, after I “temporarily” abandoned them. It’s not they are not good, but I found them lacking that “something” that kept me writing the damn 90k+ words for “The Lonesome Road” and to be honest it pisses me off. But I am grateful for it, as all of those attempts were 5 times I learned something new and started a WIP that I am passionate about.
“The Lonesome Road”
Like I said before, I never started writing because I wanted to become a writer. All of this was a project to fight depression that somehow ended with two written books and a blog filled with poems. Strange is how life turned out sometimes… (that’s kinda the letting go for the flow thing) But my first work is special. Not just
it’s my first and like some writer-mom I find the first always special (love all of your books equally, that’s what my mom always said for us kids even if we knew she loves the youngest the most), but yea the first one started as a commemoration of sorts. A book that is fantasy, that depicts a tale of a man who finds himself in a barren wasteland, alone, in a world that is ridden of all life, but yet looks so familiar. He seeks the remnants of his kind, faced with solitude and the heavy questions is he the really the last human left alive… But this man does not remember anything. Not his name, not how he got here or how the world ended. So this journey really is about finding himself, finding answers to hard questions of mortality and life most of us don’t dare to even ask. But one night, while taking shelter from the in an abandoned house, the last man on Earth gets a knock on the door. But like I said, it’s not just a fantasy book with good storytelling, unpredictable twist and a bleak yet beautiful world filled with memories and secrets. It’s a tale of depression, meaning of life and love, quest of finding ones humanity and inner strength that can make you stand on your own two feet when the world abandoned you. I wrote it for the sole intent that whoever felt or is feeling like me, broken, misunderstood and alone sees there are still us who fight the hard battles within ourselves, that even though these wars are hard, they are not always lost. That for the thousands of those who don’t understand, who tell you to just be damn happy, stop being sad, it will pass and all that crap, there is at least one of us who is going through the same thing you are. And trust me friend, one person who understands what you are going through, is worth a lot more then a thousand fools who don’t.
The inevitable process of writing
I am making a habit of sharing the advices I got and passing them on here, so why disappoint this week? For us as writers to grow we should do two thing: Read, keep on reading, because that’s how ideas get born, by fuelling the creative furnace and to learn how to write in the first place. And to learn how to write I want to share what one of my fellow writers said to me.
“Just write. Each day. Each week. Each month. It doesn’t matter how often or how much. But just start. Don’t be afraid to suck at the beginning. We all had a beginning and sucked. But to get further and progress, don’t be afraid to start what can be a magnificent journey!”
My friend J
Yea, even though it pains me to admit, because of his ego, he is right. We all have a beginning. We shouldn’t burden ourselves with things that can be or what will become. If we don’t focus on the moment, we might just lose it. Till next week,