Hopeless, pretty-much – that was where I was three years and two days ago. I needed to change a lot of things about me and how I was living my life – or rather existing without actually living. You know how people say – usually jokingly – that they have no life? Three years ago I truly had none.
The way I ended things with my previous employer I was probably destined to be homeless. Over the past three years I have been that, basically homeless. I’ve couch surfed a bit and stayed with relatives long past my welcome, I think, but I haven’t starved to death. I’ve stayed focused on completing writing projects. I have twelve books under contract, now. Imagine that!
Three years ago this was where I was: I lived in a two bedroom apartment in a part of town that wasn’t exactly the best or safest. I walked to work, though, because the place I worked was that close. My kids were grown-up and moved out. My son still lived close enough that every once in a while we’d meet up for a day’s outing. My marriage was over long before the formalities of the divorce. I really didn’t have any savings but had managed not to fall any deeper into debt.
I’d been working in retail for so long that I believed there was nothing else I could do and, furthermore, submitted to the will of the corporation that abused me on a daily basis. When I was away from work I drank a lot and I wrote a lot, though nothing much that was worth the effort to revise, I’m afraid. Had I continued living that way I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now, probably from the stress of the work combined with the alcohol abuse.
Today I don’t drink anything alcoholic. I ride my bike everywhere I go and do that on a regular basis. I work at several jobs for the money but mainly I write full time, which is what I have been meaning to do for all my life – just I let everything else get in the way.
I could go back into management, I suppose. One of my side jobs would provide a track for that, but I’m not interested. I’ve done management. I’m over it. I like talking to customers, the nice ones who don’t have the problems. You see, when you’re in management for too long you begin to think that every customer is a problem because the only customers you ever see are the ones who have the problems requiring management attention. I’m better off with a job that basically requires minimal managerial skills.
The other things I do are related to my writing so that is comfortable enough. I’m working with and assisting other authors. That’s cool. And I write for several hours a day on average. Even if most of what I am writing will not make it onto a printed page, I’m still working at my chosen craft. And a lot of what I have been writing has potential – or at least I think it does.
I wrote a short story the other day, which was remarkable on several levels. First I don’t usually write short stories. Second, I haven’t written anything short since the experiment that produced Fried Windows. Third, the way I write doesn’t lend itself to writing anything short. Despite all that, I knocked out 2,646 words over the course of an hour and a half. I wish I could write that fast everyday. That would be amazing, right? It wasn’t half bad, either.
Thursday is my next full day off. I have plans, though nothing special or outrageous. I’m going to begin working again on the sequel to Fried Windows which is already about half finished. Alternately I may work on the sequel to Becoming Thuperman. We’ll see. I have to go grocery shopping first thing in the morning. My supply of everything has been depleted. I guess I should knock out the Fried Windows thing first since there are several readers who are waiting for it. A couple of people have asked me what happens to Brent. You know, that would be telling, except, obviously, he is in other books since I’ve mentioned that he is in The Wolfcat Chronicles, right? But technically, those works are set either before or after Fried Windows, depending on your perspective in the cosmos.
Anyway, I’m better off where I am right now than where I was three years ago. I’m not satisfied with everything about my life. I need to complete a lot of things to really get back to where I think I belong, but I’m not hungry and I have a place to sleep and a roof over my head which is much better than it might have been.
#writing #TheWolfcatChronicles #FriedWindows #BecomingThuperman #StarvingArtist
2 thoughts on “What A Difference Three Years Makes”
Reblogged this on The Wolfcat Chronicles.
Such honesty is refreshing. Take care.