The Precipice of 2015

2015 is going to be a year of big changes for me. Big changes in little steps. Steps I’ve begun taking to make myself a better writer and a better person.

I took a month off of drinking and it did me some good. More on that in an upcoming post.

I set up an account at Habitrpg.com, a little motivating system that gives me tiny nudges to get shit done sooner rather than later while also providing a handy daily to-do list. It gives you a little character and when you check things off your to-do lists, you gain gold and experience, which you can then use to make your character(who is basically a tiny 8-bit rpg guy) look cool. It probably sounds silly but providing a daily task/to-do list as well as a little goofy character you can improve is actually pretty motivating, at least for myself. Look for more information about it and how it's going in an upcoming blogpost.

I’m setting a year-long writing goal to keep me going day after day, week after week, month after month and set up a spreadsheet to keep track of my word count. I Need to make it a daily habit, do it do it do it. Every day. Start small so I can keep it going. I’m going to wake up at 5 am on the weekdays to give myself that extra time to write. Nanowrimo is great but one month isn't enough if writing is something I want to take seriously.

I started many of these things in the month of December to get used to them but the plan is to fully implement them with the new year. I’m feeling very excited about it. Time management is an incredible skill that I am not very good at, but I think I’m getting better.

What can you expect from me in 2015?

-Weekly blog posts

-Flash fiction at least once/month

-Updates on current projects

-Bad advice about life? and writing

-A serious push into publishing

NO MORE HIATUS

Nanowrimo is over and I feel refreshed. I didn’t win but as the great Chuck Wendig said, winning and losing doesn’t matter after Nanowrimo ends. What matters is that you wrote something. It might not be a finished something, it might be a shit-something but you have it. I have 35,000 words that I didn’t before, on a project that I’d sort of written before but remade. It’s not finished, though. I need to finish it.

I debated on whether to actually write this blog post, or whether to continue blogging at all. The question is whether, overall, blogging increases my writing or decreases my writing. The problem is it does both. It forces me to write more content, but takes up time I could spend writing fiction. I decided blogging is better than not blogging. I wrote more in August than I have this past month, and I was blogging then. I think it’s time to get back into it.

Take a note, though. Don’t expect a regular schedule of blog posts until after the new year. I have big plans for the new year.

I’ve noticed I need to make some changes in my life. Actually, I noticed this towards the beginning of November, but being in the midst of novel writing and such, did not write a blog post about it until now. I need to make time in my life to write more. I need to generate better habits, of writing, exercising and generally making better decisions. I need to learn moderation. How does one do these things? Are we not a creation of nature and nurture? Slowly. Ever so slowly, one small step at a time. I believe we can choose to become better versions of ourselves, in fact, we make or don’t make this choice all the time. When you choose to yell at a friend instead of listening to them, when you choose to let a stranger pull out into the street in front of you, just to be nice. Every time we make these decisions, we are being better or worse versions of ourselves...if that makes any sense.

If you want to change, you have to be motivated. You need motivators, reasons to change. That can be other people, that can be your own decisions, but you need reasons to change.It could be an epiphany you have after an experience but simply thinking “I need to change” probably isn’t going to be enough. Why do you need to change? What about your life will this change affect for the better? Who in your life will this change affect for the better? How are you going to deal with old habits and old urges? These are questions you have to consider if you really want to change.

When we don’t have rewards for things we do, it is difficult to do them. When we don’t have people relying on us to do things, we have difficulty doing them. Sometimes we need others to keep us responsible. The more motivators you have for doing a specific thing, the more likely you will do it. Think of a deadline, that’s a pretty powerful motivator. The thing is, it’s hard to self-impose deadlines because we know that we can always give in, we can always put off. We are very good at giving ourselves an extension. So, you might make a deadline to finish a story by the weekend but who is going to call you out if you don’t do it? Who is going to stop you from saying, “well, maybe just another couple of days” or “I’ll finish it next week for sure!” I do this often. I self-identify, fairly accurately I’d say, as a procrastinator.

Procrastinating is bad. It’s a bad habit. Putting off the hard work is almost always a bad decision. A month or so ago, I procrastinated in driving our car the day before vacation, because I wanted to play some silly video games. Unfortunately, it had a battery issue and because I had procrastinated, I needed to get it to the dealer’s in a half hour or so, so they could fix it that day. Because we were going to use the car for a vacation trip the next day, this was a problem and could have made things very difficult. Thankfully, I got lucky and a mechanics a block down jumped the car for five bucks and I managed to get it to the dealer in time. Things worked out but I still think about it, how my procrastination very nearly led to difficulties and how easy it would’ve been if I’d done it first thing. After that, I feel it’s a very good skill to get your shit done first, then enjoy time off. Don’t put shit off just because you have time, because you don’t know what’s going to happen and you might not have as much time as you thought. Shit happens. Plan for it. Procrastination, unfortunately, is a tough habit to break.

I have noticed one thing, though. If I write out a to-do list and I get it done first thing on a Saturday, I feel fantastic the rest of the day. I feel like I succeeded, like I accomplished something. It’s a great feeling. Much better than the feelings I get when I push off stuff to another day and feel like I wasted a bunch of free time goofing off. I’m not saying goofing off is bad! It’s not! But it feels so much better when you don’t have things hanging over your head.

Speaking of changes, I recently stopped drinking alcohol for a month. It cleared my head a little, and I think it’s good practice to take a break from vices every once in awhile. Realize you can live without it, you can have fun without it, and it sort of loses its power over you. I think a more in-depth blog on the month will come in the near future. I’m very glad I did it.

I’m trying to become more productive and less of a procrastinator. I’m using tools like to-do lists such as Wunderlist and productivity apps like Habitrpg which gives you little silly rewards for completing daily tasks to start and continue good habits. I’m dipping into it this December, but plan to really delve into production in the new year. I’m talking blog posts weekly, fiction writing daily, and generally getting shit done.

In closing,

Do Shit First, Ask Questions Later.

Hiatus

I'm going to be on hiatus for a couple weeks. I apologize for the lack of posts. I will be attempting to finish Scrap in a week or two, and will throw it up whenever it's ready. I also plan on doing a quick edit of it once it's finished and putting out a more finished story. Thanks for reading.

Thoughts and Rescheduling

I stuck with the three posts per week schedule for the month of August and it went well. I was able to post on schedule for the most part. Even so, it's plain to see I will not be able to continue this amount of content. First of all, it detracts from me writing anything else, which is a problem. I have also begun classes in graduate school which will take more and more of my time as the semester goes on. Work has also begun so I'm back at the k-8 school, helping teach those darn kids.

Three posts a week just isn't feasible. I'm going to try for two posts a week, one in the first half, sun-wed, one in the second half, wed-sat. I'm giving a range of days because I will honestly be scrounging for blog-writing time whenever I can get it. That's just the way it is. The plan will be one post on writing, one post of fiction. I know I need to finish Scrap, I also need to get back to my short story, and other ideas that keep jumping up on me.

That's what's been happening. Thanks for listening and dealing with the irregularity recently.

Real Life

You can only do so much. You can plan and strategize and monopolize the free time you get. You can grab bits and chunks of writing time here and there in spare spontaneous moments. You can establish a daily writing habit and continue it for days, weeks, months, years. You can write hundreds of blog posts ahead of time and schedule them to go up at the right time.

And still, real life will get in the way. You will fall behind. It happens. Shit happens. You have to deal with it. If real life rears its big ugly head, thats okay. Let it. Do what you have to do, try to forget the nagging sensation of 'Oh I need to be writing' and try to enjoy the bumps and situations real life throws your way.

I don't mean it as something bad will happen, though it will. Bad things do happen, but that's not always what will get in the way of writing. Just as often, it will be good things, going on vacation, spending time with friends or loved ones, etc. As said before, have fun while it lasts, then, as soon as you can, get back on your horse and write like hell.

If it is Something Bad, then you need to deal with it, writing can take a backseat. Do what you need to in your real life before you delve into your imaginary one.

Basically, I'm writing this post as a poor excuse for not getting in my monday blog post on time. Real life got in the way, in a good way. Sometimes it's best to just let it. Get back in the saddle when you can.

Scrap (p.4)

(Part 1 is here)

A girl rushed into Sallie's, her eyes wide. She went behind the bar and whispered into Sallie's ear.

Sallie glanced at Johnny, nodding her head. After the girl was done, Sallie whispered something in her ear and put something in her hand. Sallie walked over to Johnny's stool.

Johnny's stomach dropped. Maybe he didn't have until morning.

"Seems Hal's not waiting until morning," Sallie said. She rummaged under the bar and started pulling out guns.

"Wait, Sallie, listen," Johnny said. "Just let me out the back and tell him I'm gone. I don't want to bring this trouble down on you and yours."

"This trouble was coming sooner or later. Hal don't want anything operating that ain't under his thumb." She looked at Johnny, her eyes keen. "But tell me, why's he want you so bad?"

Johnny hesitated, but Sallie was about to head off against the meanest most powerful man in the village, and it was his fault. He leaned in. "I found something in the Heap. Something big."

"How big?"

Johnny sighed. "It will change the world."

Her eyes widened. She shook her head and jumped onto the bar, standing over everyone.

The singer in the corner cut off her song.

Everyone looked at Sallie.

She stalked up and down her bar, resting her rifle on her shoulder like a soldier at ease. "There's going to be trouble here fast so I'd ask you all to head to the basement to wait this out. I apologize for the inconvenience. Girls, boys." She gestured to her workers to come to the bar.

Johnny found the girl who'd brought the warning and sent her off with a message.

Sallie let herself down off the bar. "What'd you tell her?"

"To get out of here before the shooting starts. You got a gun for me, Sal? Mine's empty."

She couldn't help smiling. "That girl took your bullets too, didn't she?" She handed over a heavy handgun. "Take care, she kicks."

Most of Sallie's customers were making their way to the trapdoor underneath the stairs. One of Sal's boys held it open.

Sallie addressed her workers. "Susie and Sharon, you get yourselves down in the basement too, I won't hear nothing else." The two youngest-looking girls left, the others looked determined. "Now, boys and girls I call you but you are men and women, able to do what you want. If you'll stay and protect this place, I'll appreciate it but I won't force you. The basement door is open if you want to take it."

Not one of her workers moved. They looked determined.

Sallie looked pleased. She started handing a variety of firearms out, rifles, shotguns and handguns. She sent her boys to keep watch in every direction.

The few customers who remained made their way to the bar, having talked with eachother and looking like they decided something.

"Sallie," one said, a grizzled man with a lengthy black beard. "You've been here long since I showed up, only real place of civilization left in this barbarian's wasteland of a planet and damnit, you better be here long after I'm gone. This place is neutral, always has been and if someone's messing with that, I want to help, we all do." The men and women with him nodded their heads in agreement. They looked withered and aged, but also rock hard. The village didn't have room for anyone soft.

Sallie nodded. "I appreciate it much, Gril, but you all know you will be going against Hal on this. I won't begrudge anyone stepping back and heading down to the basement."

Gril shrugged, glancing at the others. "We already figured as much."

Sallie handed out the last few weapons she had and spare ammo clips to go with them.

Johnny shook his head, lost in thought. He'd spent most of his life in the village, it's parts and people familiar, reassuring, the status quo never really changing. It'd been a safe place, for the most part, for a family to raise children, for a farmer to bring their crops, and most importantly for Johnny to scavenge in the Heap and bring back old-tech to sell off.

No more.

He swore, checking the clip in the gun before shoving it back in with a snap. "I didn't want this, any of this," he muttered.

"Hey," Sallie said, smacking him up side the head. "Get the hell over your self."

"Sallie," one of her boys said from the front.

A gunshot resounded and one of the front windows shattered.

Everyone ducked and clutched their weapons with white knuckles, waiting.

No more gunfire.

Sallie left her men watching the back and sides. The rest of them made their way to the front, taking positions by the many windows.

Ten men stood out front, each carrying a machine gun. One man stood out, pudgy and with a scar across his face. He was Theodore, Hal's second.

Johnny took a slow breath. If Ted was here, Hal wasn't playing around.

"Sal," one of her men hissed from the back. He held up five fingers and pointed outside.

Sal sent Johnny, Gril and another one of her patrons who'd stuck around to the back.

Johnny crouched by the bouncer, a broad-shouldered man with a shotgun.

"They're hiding but just wait and watch."

Johnny did so, making sure to keep out of clear view.

Men poked their head from behind two buildings. Another peeked from the roof of a third. Two more could be seen between gaps in a pile of wooden crates off to the side. They each were armed and seemed to be waiting for something.

"Sallie!" Theodore cried out. "We don't want trouble."

"Sure looks like you do," Sallie shouted back.

"We just want Johnny, that's all. Let him go and we'll leave in peace."

"What do you want him for?"

"Trespassing and theft on Hal's land, the Scrapheap. He's broken the law and he needs to pay."

"Ain't the law Sheriff's business?"

Theodore shrugged. "Seeing how Hal was the one offended against and the Sheriff is a two-bit coward, Hal's the one who will see to the issue."

"The Heap ain't Hal's to own. Never was and never will be."

"Now see, he would disagree with you."

"Seeing how he's breaking the laws of this here neutral ground, I don't much care what he thinks."

Theodore laughed. "We all knew this place was only neutral ground long as Hal let it be. C'mon now, Sal, you don't want to do thi-"

She leaned out of the window and fired.

Theodore took the round in the shoulder, spinning around and hitting the dirt.

The world filled with gunfire.

The men at the back made their appearance, whipping their guns up and peppering the back with bullets.

Windows shattered. Tables and chairs were hit, sending woodchips flying into the air. The bottles behind the bar broke and crashed to the floor.

Johnny peeked out when he could, found the closest man, creeping up the side of a house. Johnny held the gun with both hands and fired. The kick took him by surprise, making him step back.

The man bounced off the wall and hit the ground.

Johnny threw himself back from the window as gunfire followed him. He found Gril dead and the other patron dying from multiple gunshots.

The man didn't last long.

Sal's man raised up and fired, scattershot catching the man above and sending him tumbling from the roof.

Johnny glanced at the front.

One of Sal's men lay on his back, his hands to his gut as another of Sal's customers put pressure on the wound. Sal herself looked calm and collected, her mouth a thin line of concentration as she moved from window to window, shooting here and there.

Johnny moved to another window, a surprisingly intact one and smashed it with the butt of his handgun. He waited a moment, then looked out. He fired a couple times at the crates but missed.

The men behind the crates dashed out of sight beyond a house.

Johnny thought of the people living in that home, in all the homes around them, in the whole village itself, exposed to an avalanche of violence and death. He cursed Hal for this, he cursed the Sheriff for not being able to protect them as he promised to do. He cursed the world that reduced them to this. He leaned out the window, spotted another of Hal's men clambering over a nearby roof, and fired.

The round took the man's leg off. His scream cut off as he hit the dirt.

Johnny saw the window of a house break as a man's elbow went through it, followed by the barrel of a gun pointed in his direction. Johnny was slow to move and he knew it. A gunshot fired, impossible to catch amid the many others, but the man in the window stumbled back and fell.

Johnny looked at Sal's man with a thankful grin but he had a curious expression on his face.

"Who was that?" the man asked.

Johnny glanced out the window and his jaw dropped.

The woman with goggles and short hair stood just outside, reloading the handgun she'd taken from him, at a time that felt so long ago. "This sides clear," she said. "Get to the front, we don't have much time." She ran off around the corner of the building.

Johnny didn't bother asking questions and headed for the front. He didn't bother thinking too hard about what just happened because it wouldn't matter anyway. It didn't make sense. Trying to understand would just make his head hurt more, and the gunfire hadn't done much to help with his headache in the first place.

He found the battle dying down, Hal's men wounded or dead, Theodore having disappeared. He must have been wearing some fancy armor to survive Sal's shot. Sal's wounded man's eyes were closed and one of her women had taken a round in the throat, her eyes open and unblinking.

Sal looked mean, blood on her face and hands, her eyes hard as diamonds. "Whose that woman?" she asked, gesturing outside. "She might have just saved our asses."

Johnny watched as the woman with goggles walked around, finishing off the wounded, executioner-style. He sighed. "That would be the lady who robbed me."

A Writing Place

I recently created a "writing room" in my apartment. I set up a six-foot cheap foldable table and put a spare chair in the spare room that is mostly used for storage. It's not much, the walls bare, most of the space taken by beer-brewing equipment, cardboard boxes and christmas ornaments, but it's something. I've only used it a few times but it's useful. Having a space devoted to writing makes me write more. I think it's important for a writer to have a space devoted to writing. You have your job space, your sleeping space, your living space, dining, etc. You should have a space for writing if it's truly important to you.

Now, this could be anything. It could be an office or study, or it could be simply sitting up in your bed with your laptop in your lap. It's simply a space where, for a time, all you do is write in that space. It could be at your dining table, in your living room with the television off. It could be outside under a tree at the park, or in a lovely cafe while sipping an iced latte. It could be multiple spaces. The point is, it's a place where you go to do one thing and one thing only for a certain amount of time. A place to focus on writing, troubles left behind, distractions gone.

Having a specific place helps you write more. It will aid you in sustaining a good writing habit, especially if you get into a routine with it. Maybe an hour before work every day, you go into your writing space and write for an hour. It's just a place where you can go and get work done, leaving other things, ideas, distractions, problems, at the proverbial door. I like my little storage room because when I go in, with a fresh glass of water or coffee or beer(depending on the time of day...usually), I know what I'm getting into. I'm not going to waste time on games of tv. I'm going in there to write goddamnit.

Roald Dahl had a tiny hut. Neil Gaiman has a freaking writing gazebo! What do you have? It could be anything.