A Word

The word moment is a tricky thing for me. There’s really not any other word that be used in replacement to prevent over-usage. Instant only seems applicable under certain circumstances, as does second or stretch of time – things of that nature. Sometimes only one word can be used – should only be used – when all other words would fall short of doing justice to a situation, a message you’re trying to get across, something you’re trying to explain the right way, or some hidden thing that you might be the only person to notice.

Words are a big deal to me. If I told people how many words I’ve written over the last several years, I would get The Look – the same look that I had on my face yesterday when watching YouTube videos of a guy getting scared while playing video games (it’s the, “You need to get out more,” look). Most numbers, when thinking about it, should usually be kept pretty close to the vest when they pertain to personal things. It’s taken me a bit of time to realize that.

Words are my entire life. I wake up, I read the ones I wrote the day (night) before, and then I write more. When I’m editing, I read the ones I wrote, add more, take some out, and move them around, trying to make all of them as close to perfect (my perfect) as I can get.

I don’t know how many times I can say, “I fail words constantly, but they never fail me,” or some variant of that with the same message.

And moment has always given me headaches. It took me an extremely long time of writing stories to realize what I said up top. Sometimes . . . nothing else fits. People might criticize you for it, but you know what fits in your own writing, and in your own life.

But, if we’re getting technical, I should explain.

Writing is like . . . medicine for me. It’s my way of coping with stress, and struggles, and life. It is for most people who do it, but then again, I think most people who do it manage to balance life better than I do. I go and crawl into my shed – sometimes almost literally when I’m just waking up – and I stay in there. I force myself to come out sometimes, just to do things I need to do. More often than not, it takes me several days to manage some things (which things I’m talking about shall go unmentioned past mentioning). I put things off because something inside of me says . . . I need to. For myself.

I spend my life – almost every second of it – writing the moments of people’s lives that only exist in my head. It prevents me from having my own moments. It’s healthy in ways, but not in others. Is anything in the world ever ENTIRELY good for anyone? I don’t think so. A new study comes out daily, contradicting the one before it. This is just me. It works. It makes me . . . better.

The point of this is that I had my own moment two days ago.

Normally, I would explain – rattling off for 2k words about events leading up and the like. I don’t feel I should.

I’ll only say that I realized two days ago that, well . . .

Words don’t mean the same thing to everyone that they mean to me. It’s easy to say the things that you mean and mean the things that you say, but when words are thrown in to any situation . . . the possibility for failing them is almost inevitable. The difference between, “I have faith,” and, “I hope,” is the difference in saying you believe something will happen, and that you believe it won’t.

Words.

I’ve been waiting three years to hear certain words. I hadn’t known – not exactly – what they were. But I heard them two days ago.

My father said, “I think you could’ve been a [INSERT MEANINGLESS WORD] and it would’ve just been a stepping stone. You would’ve ended up here. You’re doing exactly what you should be doing.”

There were more words said, but the last sentence up there was the one that got me. It was the only one that mattered.

I cried.

I cry over the lives of the characters that I write. I do. Often; I’m not ashamed to admit it. I laugh, and I cry. I cry about my own life a very small handful of times a year, if even that.

It was kind of amazing, having my own moment.

Just thought I’d share it. It’s funny how a moment can seem insignificant to some people, but can be the furthest thing from it for others.

I really can’t explain how much I hope all of you are having your own moments out there. That’s not me saying, “I don’t believe it will happen.” I’m saying that I hope it does.

Sometimes . . . a word is just a word. It’s everything behind them that matters – feelings and thoughts that hardly anyone can ever do justice to, express correctly, or truly get across.

When we fail with words, it can be so much worse than anyone ever thinks about. But if we fall, stand up, and try again?

It might be the one thing someone needs to hear, or see.

Words are never just words to me. They’re my life. That doesn’t mean I’m not falling.

Fail, Fall, Stand up, Try again.

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The Perfect Day

It’s a little after midnight right now, which is my prime writing time, but I figured I would type this up really quick.

I’d sat down to go through some blog entries I had to read (in open tabs) and . . . well . . . okay, I’m starting off in the wrong spot. That was the point of me getting on here, but I should explain that I have the ‘Reader’ page open all the time, hoping that I’ll find more than ten minutes to sit down here. I’ve given up on catching up. So I’ve been hoping for about four or five hours (yes, it takes me that long – I’m following a LOT of people) to go through reading people’s entries to make up for it. I’m going to say in advance that I’ll be digressing with this, but I actually thought about making a VLOG (had a funny conversation with a friend about VLOGGING) to make up for my lack of reading. Why would that make up for it, you ask? Because I’d make a complete and total ass out of myself, that’s how. Probably won’t happen, but the thought crossed nevertheless.

Anywho, while the Reader was open, I just so happened to see an entry that Briana Vedsted just posted. Clicked on it, read it, commented. It was asking for blogging ideas. I’ve only had about one clever blogging idea ever, so I couldn’t help with that. Well, she replied back to my comment and gave ME an idea. How freaking awesome is that?

So I figured I would do that right now. I wasn’t expecting to be this many words in and still  not have said diddly squat about it.

Basically she said for me to describe what my perfect day of writing would be – how I would start the day, what I would eat, and what it would be like to be a full-time, worry-free author. It was so funny to me that I just couldn’t help myself.

*Clears Throat*

My perfect day of writing:

Wake up at 8PM.

Go out into my shed. Preferably Husband will have woken up before me and turned either the AC or the heater on, depending on the weather.

Sit down with fresh cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. (Yes, I smoke. I don’t want to hear it. This is my perfect day of writing and you’re not involved.)

Write until about 8 AM.

Eat.

Sleep.

Repeat.

That’s it.

You see . . . This is basically what I do anyhow. It’s not fair, I know. I get to be a full-time (I’ll not say the A-word without Aspiring in front of it) writer. I get to do that because I have a ridiculously awesome husband who – SOMEHOW – understands that what I’m doing is ‘working’ and doesn’t tell me to get a ‘real job’. Worry free? I think not. I’m a worrier by nature. And clearly, you can imagine all the worries that come along when you don’t have a ‘real job’. That’s not why I’m writing this.

I sat here this morning. Er. Yesterday morning, before I went to bed (responding to comments). And I realized . . . I could totally let this entire blog fall off the face of the earth while I’m writing. I could. I really, honest to goodness could. Not going to.

It was easier when I first started this new book and wasn’t SUPER into it. I’m into it now. I’m to the point where I’m talking to Husband about it while I’m not writing it. I’m either writing it, talking it, thinking it, or sleeping. Period.

I had a conversation with my friend yesterday . . . wait . . . No. It was definitely yesterday; I’m just getting my days mixed up here (I lost a day somewhere and found out about it . . . yesterday?). Anyway, it was about ‘the way that we write’. He can do about two million things at one time. I can’t. When I’m writing, I’m writing. I need silence, solitude, uhm . . . I was trying to think of another S word that would be fitting here, but I can’t. Silence and Solitude. Need those. And I just honestly can’t make the time for the things I WANT to do when I’m working on a book. Because I NEED to write and everything else is wants.

I was hoping I’d be done with it by the end of the month (I type VERY fast), but I’m a few hours late tonight so that’s looking less and less likely.

So the entire reason this was funny to me is because I wanted to say, “Don’t expect to see me for a few days.” I might be inside for a little (and I mean LITTLE) bit of time in the mornings before sleeping. Only because I have to eat something. Maybe my balancing isn’t as perfect as other people’s. Maybe other people can have LIVES while they’re writing books. I’m just slowly realizing that I can’t. So I’m prioritizing. I’ve got to get this thing done. Then I’ll take a little time off (a few days). Catch up on here as best I can. Yep.

I’m crawling back into my hole for a little while. I’ll be happier when I resurface.

Everybody should spend a few minutes thinking about what their perfect ‘day’ would be – whether writing, or in general. Give yourself the time to do it. Life is too short to be unhappy and wishing for things. Do it. Take the time. People will understand.

See you again soon.

🙂