mike sucks at writing

i took this yesterday of my wall of comics at work.

i’m very proud of it.

that is all.

i’m not a social person. i could sit at the same bar every night for a year and never talk to a soul. People are a mystery to me, and not in that fun, “How long will it take me to pick this lock,” kind of way. Most of the intrapersonal events i attend are necessarily laced with alcohol and a dice roll of coping mechanisms.

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Since i spent over a month on the last post, today is more of a stream of consciousness kind of thing.

This is more like the schedule i want to keep. i would like to think that i have something to say on a weekly basis that’s worth putting in writing. Then, the only question is whether anyone wants to hear what i have to say. But, that’s kind of my life-question right now….

Some of my favorite things in the world are podcasts. i also have a deep love of webcomics and the adjoining community, and so one of my favorite podcasts is Webcomics Weekly with Kris Straub, Dave Kellet, Brad Guigar, and Scott Kurtz. Why i feel a kinship to the webcomics community is something of a mystery, even to me, but i think it has to do with the independent spirit that they represent when it comes to owning, controlling, and distributing creative work on the internet. i take a lot of my ideas about where i want to be with a writing career from them, and a lot of my inspiration to keep going, also. So, when Mr. Kurtz started talking about the idea of scarcity in terms of his webcomic in the most recent episodes of Webcomics Weekly, i was very intrigued.
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My last post was in June.

It’s now November.

What i really want to talk about, though, is September, so we’re just going to assume that July and August fell off a cliff. It’s not too far from the truth anyway.

On September 2nd, i wrote on the pad that i keep next to my computer at work, “i feel like i’m being rewritten.” I was the guy in those movies who is turning into something else, screaming at the ceiling as my face stretches and my fingers distend.

On September 1st, i was at the doctor for the first time in a long long time. i went primarily to take care of a little problem that i’ve been having my entire life–it starts with a “d” and ends with “epression.” I was tired of feeling like a failure and not having any motivation to do any of the things i need to do, much less those i want to do.

Like Write.

The term that i came up with for this is “Knowwhere.” i know what i’m supposed to be doing and why, but i cannot find the power to make myself do it. The end result was always driving myself into an even deeper and more disgusting hole.

So, i went to the doctor. i tried not to think of myself as a five-year-old child, “i’m sad. Can i have a pill, please?” But that’s what it felt like. Fortunately, the doctor only asked me a few questions, told me about the side-effects, and wrote me a prescription. Unfortunately, they also took my blood pressure while i was there and wrote me a prescription for that, too. My BP was so high that the nurse and doctor treated me like a dead man for the rest of the visit.

So, on September 2nd, i had two new drugs in my system–a system that has never endured steady medication or illegal drugs at all, ever. And on that day, i felt like i was dying.

On September 3rd, i was one of those people who has a terrible accident and suddenly has to learn how to walk again, except i was learning how to eat, how to sleep, and how to have sex like it was my first time for all.

I’ve been trying to write this post since that day when i wrote my epitaph on that pad, trying to mix it into all of the other things that have happened over the last couple of months, but my days have been unpredictable. It’s been over a month, and there are still days when i feel the Knowwhere creeping up behind me, but for the most part i am happier and much more productive. i’ve also started exercising and dieting in order to combat the blood pressure, and i’ve lost almost 20 pounds. i have been getting more writing done, but not yet to the level that i want to be.

Not yet. But i feel it coming.

Writing has become a nagging need in my chest, instead of a guilty weight in my guts. It’s become a need that i must slake, not just another item on a to-do list of shame. And the ideas are still coming, clearer and even more exhilarating. I will not say that September and all of its madness was not an ending, but it was most certainly also a beginning.

according to the agenda i wrote myself this morning, i’m supposed to be editing a post that i wrote over the weekend right now, but i’m not really feeling it. Instead, i’ve decided to write this little ditty and then get on with my other work.

i hope you all realize that this is not really the last word on this subject, but hopefully the last for a while. i learned way too much and i am still working on the project, but the event itself is over.

The sad fact of the thing is this: i did not finish. i may have said it before but i’m sure everyone got the impression. However, here are some of the things i’ve gained.

i’m 13 pages into a screenplay that i really enjoy (here in about 45 minutes i should be farther.)

i’ve learned a lot more about how i work and the process for that (see previous post.)

i’ve gotten much more used to posting to this blog, for better or worse.

and hopefully, i’ve gained the confidence to get a little farther next time.

thanks for reading. i should have something new to talk about later this week.

It feels more than a little ridiculous to be talking about my “process” of writing since i’m not anyone famous or special, and i’m not doing anything particularly novel. But, it’s a big deal to me.

For a long time now, i’ve been looking for ways to make this Writing thing a habit. Habit in the sense of compulsion. i can’t tell you how many ways i’ve tried to create this habit. i’ve always felt like the habit should include some kind of warmup, but i’ve tried so many different types of warmups and what not that i’ve very literally lost track. Some of them had to do with writing down lyrics to certain songs every time i sit down to write. Others involved special playlists of certain music. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
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Here it is folks, the answer to everything:

Step 1. Turn on Music
Step 2. Get to work

Have a productive day!

sub-titled: “goddamnit, i have got to figure out how to put these things behind a cut” UPDATE: FOUND IT!

i’ve always felt like a pop-cultural vampire. i feel like i only ever catch on to something when someone else tells me about it. Maybe everyone is like this, but that “ability” to discover something new has never really been something that i’ve been good at. As such, my taste in music has always been influenced by those around me. Fortunately, i’ve come into contact with some amazing people over the course of my life, and their influence has infused my life with music in ways that have saved my life more than once.

to say that i had terrible taste in music when i was younger would be a serious understatement. I’m sure that there is still evidence of this somewhere, but i’m just going to say two words to you and leave it at that: “The Jets.” Wait, here are a couple more words: “The Jets Christmas Album.”
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here’s the picture i promised:

and here’s a bonus kittie!