I’m Petrified Again So Again I Write.

Holy shit. It’s been awhile since I’ve done this. I think all the progress I made on myself from months ago (truthfully it feels like years) is all gone. I wish I could say that I am yearning to write again because of some calling, like say, maybe I saw in the clouds a figure of a bearded man writing at a desk or something. It’d be even cooler if he was using a feather pen to write poetic stuff because feather pens are pretty sweet. But it isn’t that. It’s fear that has motivated me to return to putting random words on a screen. Since I’ve moved I can’t help but feel as though things keep going against me. My wife had a brief, but still frightening cancer issue, my car has been totaled in an accident and I just can’t quite feel secure when it comes to money.

I honestly can’t remember the last moment when there wasn’t tightness in my chest. So that blows. I’m hopeful that this new bout of fear and stress will lead to motivation that sticks once everything becomes better. I have a novel I wrote 5 years ago that I never have revised. The dream was always to publish it as an e-book but I never quite muster the motivation to do so. All I can do is fantasize about it becoming a hit (which I understand is unlikely but it’s fun to dream) but I can’t quite muster the strength to finish the damn thing. Right now, the motivation is strong but that comes from the fear.

The thought I keep having is “I need a new car right now. If I can only turn this book into a hit than maybe things will change.” Like, I’m going to become an instant millionaire from a book about a young man and his boner (inside joke to my story that no one has read nor can they read because I won’t post it anywhere. I assure you it’s hilarious because I say the word “boner” and “boner” is a funny word.) I am starting to wonder if it’s the dream of publishing such a book that keeps me from doing it. Within the dream is hope….if I don’t try and fail with the dream….the hope never dies. I think it’s the same damn reason I never really asked girls out when I grew up. Hope is a powerful thing but it can also be a major inhibitor to actually getting shit done. I suppose the first step to getting everything I ever hoped for is getting my dreams stomped on for a bit at first. With that I am motivated to finally revise my novel….but not right now….I’m tired and I have to figure out how to buy a fucking car with no money.

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