I am not naturally an introspective soul. I was born in the wrong generation, to the wrong family, and in the wrong culture. Perhaps I was born in the right ones, but for an introspective bent, I definitely missed the memo. Yet, here I am, finding myself glitching a bit, so I thought I would write about it, instead of weaving my way down the usual destructive path of deleting all my accounts and withdrawing from everything, only to return days later feeling marginally better about myself. For those in the same boat as me, I hope you know at the end of this, you are not alone. Why the Kombi? I will explain that one in a bit.
One of the hardest things I battle against in this writing adventure are the voices in my head. They are often loud, and the advice you can often find in memes like the one below is not a good path to follow. Doing what they say is what I usually do, and I end up having to rebuild everything, re-open my Substack, and more, all while generally inconveniencing everyone who actually reads my stuff. All 3 of you.
Those voices in my head also have a lot to say about what I say, or rather, do not have to say. I often find it hard to even start writing something, because I want to write something meaningful, but yet do not consider anything I have to say worth putting to paper or screen. Much less spending hours and hours actually doing so, and then naively expecting someone to find significance where I simply do not. If I cannot see much value in the words I pen, how can someone else be expected to do just that? So, these voices which second guess what I am thinking and writing usually win out. This is why I do not write anywhere near the amount I should, if I am to call myself a “writer.”
The second challenge is what my daughter is utterly convinced is “undiagnosed ADHD.” I am at the older end of Generation X, so for me it is more like “diagnosed just get the hell over it and get on with life.” The problem with the approach I am accustomed to is I really have trouble finishing stuff. That is why I read anything up to seven books at the same time, and it takes me months and months to get even a short story finished. I start well, all enthusiasm and ebullient joy, and then it all fizzles out like a dud firecracker. I move onto a new project, which was probably germinated by a random song I heard on Ampwall or Bandcamp. I am, if nothing else, the King of the Unfinished Project. And don’t get my wife started on my Warhammer 40K hobby! After around 15 years, I am still to live that one down!
At the end of the day, I find this situation, and the feelings that go with it, endlessly frustrating. I am just surprised I have kept the same pseudonym for such a long time. The heavy, gut-level weight I carry around a lot is wearing a bit thin, and it is not something I have found an easy answer to. As a person of faith in Jesus Christ, of course, I have prayed about it. A lot, actually. But, in His wisdom, God has chosen to act through people more than He does directly, it seems. The frustration remains, and the impending, looming sense of uselessness remains a shadow wrapping its chilled outline around me.
Writing, and I am not talking about marketing stuff or getting your books out there, but just the act of writing stuff, is a hard slog. When someone compared it to a marathon, of which I have run three in my life, they really got it wrong. Marathons are much easier. At the end of twenty-six miles (forty-two kilometres), you are just exhausted. Even the voices are too stuffed to bother you about anything. Writing something is harder, in my humble opinion. No amount of chugging back isotonic drinks and energy pouches is going to make the words come any easier or make you feel better about them. No matter what shoes you have on, the same slog is the same slog. It is a cliff up which you need to run.
The lesson learned, I think, is I need to be like that VW Kombi in the picture above. That car has seen some hard times, been through some real crap, and it is still kicking. It might be considered ugly, but I think it is a more beautiful machine for the dents, missing lights, stickers, scratches, and worn out paint work. Each flaw speaks to the experiences the Kombi has had, and the perseverance with which it has weathered the storms and trials. The Kombi, I could almost imagine, is sitting there giving the world a middle finger and a quiet “f*** you.”
Part of my middle finger to the world and to the horror show that is marketing for me, (I would rather a zombie with broken teeth gnaw off my nether regions), I have decided to mess about the #AlternativeFacts idea. I was inspired by some writers lying about the number of countries or states (in the USA) their books were banned in, so that people would be more interested in buying the books and so boost sales. I thought it was a cool idea to do the same, but make some truly ridiculous claims, which any thinking person would know were nothing more than BS. This example, which you are seeing before anyone else, is the least offensive of them, I think. I am sure to go ever more deeper down the rabit hole of my own darkness on this. Sometimes, you just have to find the fun and start playing about. If for no other reason than to preserve your own sanity.
Authors, if you are feeling the grind, know you are not alone. If you like, reach out, and lets share some. Leave a comment or whatever. If you’ve read this far, I truly need to thank you for enduring the ramblings of an old fossil who makes most of Gen-X look like tweens.
Hang in there. Kia kaha, e hoa mā!
If you want to improve your efficiency by less than a fraction of a percent, you can grab another of my stories, NeoTokyo Dead, from all fantastic platforms!
Life's journey is hard. It makes us feel many things, and there is hurt and sorrow aplenty, but we're still here, kickin' it. You wrote much I sometimes feel too, and while I won't say I've 'given up', it's harder to plough ahead, but I do anyway, because I love writing, and communicating. And I think you do too.