Off to the races…!

I have a plan for seven books.

I have one written so far, so it is much less daunting than it sounds. It’s a kind of series that I have in mind. I say “a kind of series” because they aren’t related so much in content or word, but they do share a grounding.

No, I am not going to tell you what it is. I am still sure I can actually do what I have planned, but I know that I cannot without backing from a major publisher.

I would be hiding the fact that this is a bit of marketing on my end. I hope that a literary agent will find my body of work more appealing if I had a promise of more to come and an extended universe that I hope to build.

The main take-away you should get from this post is that I am working on something huge and I am VERY excited to share it with all of you.

Hopefully, I can do that soon.

Not Inspired

I haven’t touched my latest book in over a week.

I get distracted easily. Between having to put my dog down yesterday (as of writing this), and the bullshit with American elections, I just have not been in the right headspace. I cannot even use current events in my writing.

Well, most current events, anyway.

It really does raise the question: how many words is enough? My ultimate goal is about one-hundred thousand. i am just over seventeen thousand right now, which is horrible seeing as I started writing a year ago. I have been kind of stuck on silly things. Things that I shouldn’t be stuck on, like fantastical concepts that have no place being based in reality.

For instance, my main character discovered a way of space-travel that is damn close to light speed. 99.9% to be exact. We only have reached speeds like that in theories, and we have not figured out a way to get a human to go anywhere near that. For some-fucking-reason, I am determined to have the science at least KIND OF work. I have been staring at the paragraphs (literal paragraphs. Like, maybe 4) determined to have the inspiration to figure this quandary out. Fuck the rest of the text, personal dilemmas faced by the main, or world building: I HAVE TO ANSWER THIS!

I don’t even know why I am allowing myself to be stuck on a point that I could gloss over. The point of the main character is that she is the only scientist alive who has even kind of solved the “dilemma” of overcoming the speed of light as a pace of travel. The crux of the text is actually a more philosophical aside from that idea.

With all of that said, I may be using that as an excuse to not write. Like I mentioned, I could gloss over the technical points. I have a tonne of writing that has to do with my main character getting to the point where her discovery even matters. I have little shame in admitting that the Presidential race of the USA, and subsequent lawsuits (regardless of barring on my immediate life), has been waying heavy on my everything.

Maybe, just maybe, next week will be better.

Fictional Time

I am having a hard time rationalizing time in relation to my next book.

It is supposed to take place over years. Decades, even. I am very comfortable with that concept.

HOWEVER.

I have a couple of events that happen back-to-back, narratively. However, I have made them take place years apart on a literal scale. That was kind of by accident, kind of not.

Let’s start with the not.
I intended for the events to happen with a large gap between them. Of course, by large gap, I ment a few months. I am dealing with hours, however, and made it 10,000 hrs (~416 days) and 100,000 hrs (~4166 days).

Now, I could narratively make that gap make sense. I could express how time has little meaning, or do little vignettes further explaining events over that time.

The other direction I could go is to shrink the time by a factor of 10. That would make it ~42 days and ~416 days. That makes a lot more sense, as this is dealing with space travel. I am trying to keep some sort of realism in the story, and oxygen alone would make 11 years difficult, at the best.

If you haven’t noticed yet, I am writing this more out of a selfish need to rationalize my decisions than I am writing this for a concrete answer. I have given myself a plethora of time to figure this out, and it really has little bearing on the grand scope of the narrative.

Just, trust me. It will all make sense in a bit.

Self-Impose

I have given myself until May 10th to have the rough copy of my next book completed. From that day, I have given myself another 6 months (November 10th) to have the second draft completed.

Some may be confused. If I am my own boss, for the moment; why impose restrictions on yourself? Why not just ‘go-with-the-flow’ and let things be done when they are done?

It’s a fair question with a simple answer: if left to my own devices, I would never complete a creative project.

I hear the questions already.
What about the All Cut Up albums?!
I played drums and mixed them. Yes, one could argue that I co-wrote them, but I was always convinced that it was Kevo’s project first. I wanted to release the best thing I could produce for him as fast as he would be happy about it.

What about the other projects you produced?
To reiterate, they were other people’s projects. As much as I would spend hours on mixing and leveling what I could, I just had to make it sound the best that it could. In a couple of cases, that mix was found very quickly. To continue to mix would risk ruining the end result.

What about the first book?
I am going to be doing a PodCast talking about that very soon actually, but I was aided in the fact that it was based in an event. I only had so much creative control when discussing reality.

So, yes: I will have a completed version of the book by November. You have until then to support me on Patreon to ensure that you get listed at the end. Just $1 a month is all I ask!

Reality

I have the strangest bit of writer’s block.

Well, to call it “writer’s block” is a bit of a misnomer. It is more of a crippling wall that I find myself behind.

Okay, let me backup a bit:

I am a fan of writing parts out of order. If I find myself stuck at an important part, I leave it alone for a bit, and move forward. I then go back to the part that I find myself stuck behind and hope that what I have done moving forward has either answered what I am stuck on, or given me an out.

The story I am writing right now involves a bit of physics that does not exist. It involves movement faster than light, which is empirically impossible (as of the writing of this journal) and shows no possibility of being conquered. So, in usual fashion, I started writing further into the story to fill out other ideas.

I wrote over 10,000 words when I hit another wall showing me that I need to, at least, fudge the concept into some kind of in-universe reality. The part that makes it so hard is that I am trying to keep the world that I have built at least KIND OF realistic. It involves science that does not exist: it involves science that we want to exist. This means that I have a lot of information that would not work, and what makes it MORE frustrating is that if I try to use the thing that doesn’t work, people will quickly debunk it and the story becomes tainted.

I know that I am putting too much faith into the reading community. I should just write something and stop worrying if it makes sense. I should just ‘yadda yadda’ the movement thing when it comes up in the future. I should have written something easier.

I is not that brite an’ is no gud at riting.

Unfortunately for me, and my back account, I am an arrogant fucker who wants to create something that warrants respect. I am sick of being the “guy who helps do stuff” and I want to become someone worth a damn.

Speaking of being worth a damn, did you want to be in the thank-you section of the book that I just spent the top portion of this post bitching about? Donate as little as a dollar to my Patreon a month, and that will happen! It also helps me keep this blog going for another year. I mean, it will anyway: the monetary gain just makes it worth it.

I’m Not Dead

I hope this is a good idea: I have this thought that talking about mental stress, in any capacity, is a good thing. If I am wrong, I will pull this down.

My thought process is that more conversation about anyone with mental issues will help everyone who deals with them on some level.

I have, for a very long time, dealt with my own mortality. I actually feel guilt for being alive.

Now, that does not imply that I am depressed. I actually feel this way whether I am having a good day or not. I am constantly thinking about how I am squandering aspect of life, even when I am doing everything right. I have released more albums in a period of 10 years than most people will in their entire lives. I have written a book. I do a PodCast, and I have produced a number of songs. I am married to an amazing woman. I have three beautiful dogs, and a cat that is amazing. Even this blog could be seen as an accomplishment, though even on paper, I don’t see it as anything special.

I feel constantly hounded by the fact that I am heavily in debt. Things I do don’t get the attention that I think they should. A large part of that is my examples are ludacris to live up to. I have constant reminders from other YouTube personalities, musicians, and writers who have great success and reach limits unheard of by history.

The biggest component is my health status. I get daily reminders that I am not walking. A close relationship tells me often how my seizures are self inflicted, and I believe it even though I know that they are not.

I am trying, but I feel as though that I have done this all to myself. I then start to feel horrible because there are people (friends and otherwise) who have died before they could do anything eternal. I feel as though the system wasting it’s time on me is for not. I am literally living my life because other people want me to for them.

That is something never talked about: how we don’t get reprise from life. Even on a day off, we have to make sure that we do X and Y for ourselves so we can get back to doing things to “better” humanity. It does not help that, because I am over 30 years old, I have signed a collection of confidentiality agreements to prevent my doctors explaining certain things to family and friends.

Couple this exhaustion from life with my disdain for existence, and I am having a hard time. I AM NOT DEPRESSED, but I am feeling trapped and pulled thin. I make morbid jokes because I find them hilarious. I talk about killing myself, NOT AS A CRY FOR HELP, as a way to express emotions at that time and date.

I tell everyone that I love them, because I genuinely do. I am going to start signing off every PodCast with “I love you” because I don’t hear that being uttered enough.

I know I said that I am taking a break, but I really needed to get that out.

I love you.

My Question

As my previous post announced, the 12th was my birthday! That makes me 32, according to when I was actually born in ’88. That part I am not disputing, as it would be very silly if I did!

My question lies with the fact that they pulled life support back in 2013 on my birthday (mildly poetic) and I was supposed to die that day. I think of that often, and now get reminded every year because my oldest friend’s fiance gave birth on that day to twins.

They are both quite lovely, by the way.

My question is simple: am I 32 or 7?

My good friend Chrissy reminded me that it would not be fair if I became younger than her. I really do have to question why anyone would actually want to be younger than they are? I take great pride in the fact that I am the age I am. My wife is two years older than me, and the changes in pop culture that we experienced are amazing.

I am now going to tangent, as I often do. Is it not strange and awesome that humans are the only species that I know of (leave examples of me being wrong in comments) that keep track of age? We have birthdays, anniversaries, laws and regulations around what you can or cannot do, and competition to see who is the oldest in some circles.

Maybe I’m just thinking too much about it. Maybe I’m onto something interesting. Maybe you just caught me writing another blog to delay writing my next book because I am actually intimidated to screw something up so to avoid doing that, I am just waffling until it mysteriously finishes itself.

mad

I am too angry to write.

I don’t have a reason, and this is far from a cry for help. I would blame anxiety or depression, but I’m not sad.

I crave to scream at something, I think? Or maybe, just maybe, I feel like I don’t deserve something? I have no clue. I don’t know why I am this way right now. It might be reading the headlines from our neigbours to the south, or it might be this feeling of being trapped in a world of hate and malice.

Either way, long story short, my birthday is Thursday. I will do the usual hiatus from the twelfth to January, with a Christmas update in between. I am 10,000 words deep into my latest book. I love what I have written so far, but I have been to… messed up?… to write anything for about a week now. I voiced a fear of hating what I have written to a friend of mine, then read it over again and felt better.

I hope I can do a more interesting post before Thursday.

Hiccup

I just moved again. I cannot find my monitor.

Sure: I could use my TV, but focusing on text is too difficult on a screen that big.

(My eyes are annoying)

I’m writing this short blog post from my phone, which is not good for my usual ramblings. Links on this though possible, are annoying to implement.

My humble ask is that you come back when I have everything set to continue, again. I miss writing, in every capacity.

A big plus for the break is that I figured out a plot issue with my book (in regards of how to fix it). Reminder that if you want your name in the Thank You section, donate to my Patreon. The help would be much appreciated!

The Mistake…?

I was on fire the other day.

I got writing my next book, and had this strike of inspiration! I have been sitting around 5000 words for the last couple of months: I knew where I wanted to go, just not how to get there. I had figured it out the other day, though. My Glob, I had figured it out!

I had a very sterile ending, that works brilliantly. Jay sandard, which translates to “everything you just read was so much worse for the character than you originally believed”. I had this one event that I wanted to happen. I showed it to the beautiful Patrick, and he pointed out how there was no compassion on the side of the reader. Basically, I had this avatar get shot and no one should care.

Initially, I was a little indignant. I have always, and probably will always, believe a story should be more a snapshot of an event rather than a retrace of past events that have little bearing on said event. I got thinking about Pat’s comment in this context, though. I started to realize that he was more correct than I wanted.

After penciling ideas out for a month, I finally had an idea of where I wanted to go. So, on Monday, I put down 2000 or so words. Tuesday, I heard the sirens call and wrote another 1000ish words. Wednesday, I was on fire and wrote nearly 5000 words. Yesterday, being Thursday, October 1st, I read over the fruits of my labour. That day was the first day that I didn’t have new ideas, and I was happy to just reflect.

Imagine my horror when I read the same chapter (with variations, minor but there were some) three times. I spent the next few hours stunned into silence. I had not started my music before I started reading, and I was between YouTube videos. There I was, staring at the horrible mistake I had made.

I was floored. I was upset. Hours upon hours of work would have to be destroyed. They were too similar and time sensitive to use again in the narrative, which means I couldn’t even recycle them for “the next day” or something like that. They were useless.

IF ONLY MY STORY WAS ABOUT THE DELICATE NATURE OF TIME AND SUDJESTION!

Oh wait, it is!
Without giving too much away, I am going to try to make them work as recursion as a hint for the reader that everything is wrong. I started a plot-progression tree to try to keep track. It’s already intimidatingly large.

If this works the way I think it might, this will be amazing.

Now to drink all the coffee ever in celebration!

Oh: I’m moving on Wednesday. There may be a little hiccup in updates, and if you want to come by for a visit, do so now. I’m moving 5 hours away and though everyone is welcome to come over to visit, it will be a bit far.