Monday Morning Minutes, of a damn writer

With much hesitation I wake up and start another week on my book. It’s proving very difficult to get motivated right now as I’ve hit that wall so to speak. Thousands of hours and I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to be normal or something, whatever that means. A normal life, how absurd. I just feel old and alone even though I’m not. But these are young man concerns and this damn operation has been my decision and nobody held a gun to me and said write write write. Nobody said you have to be a writer, they actually pleaded with me to stop.

It’s a life, and it’s a book, and I guess that’s what writing a book is like. A book is life and life isn’t easy and when you come to the end of one you’re tired like you’re an old fisherman that nobody listens to, and you just want to forget about all the time you put into something that’s not really real and focus on real life. But then again, the book is real, isn’t it? It’s a picture with words of what I saw even if it wasn’t there, and it’s what I did with myself and what I chose to do. It’s what I saw and made up and it’s a little bit of every one of you who have ever read this blog.The book matters, and soon I leave that up to the world. Small sentences have to be fixed and the final draft should be relatively simple, like a small check up, a post surgical examination if you will.

I took it easy and got a real good sleep. I’m still tired and my back hurts, old man problems and even my fingers are strained as well as my right eye which seems to be getting a bit lazy these days because of the size of my monitor and perhaps the wrong prescription of the lenses in my glasses. That reminds me, I need get a small computer in the future. This computer is designed for entertainment and I don’t see the computer as entertainment anymore, it’s my canvas and my work station and I don’t even like being in the same room as it anymore when I’m not working on whatever my book is on. That’s just me.

Warming up my fingers with this and cutting my nails taking a shower being alone in the dark and I think, I think too damn much about words I don’t even know yet. This book is a burden and I am a burden. I don’t know really but I’m going to finish it soon and then I’ll go back and focus on life and think about where to go next. I have this book and then a flask of gin and a town of a lake. Maybe what I’ve done is prepared to grow up and move back to more focused adult stories that are minimal on the personal level but not as far out there as the fear and the going. I created one strange story, and I tried to make it fun and weird for the reader, a challenge for everyone, and sometimes I tried too much to do something with so little. I like the minimal and long sentences and figuring out who the hell I am in this world that seems so strange, but the world… I don’t know what the world wants ha. I know that I’m not very happy right now but I’m a writer and a writer has to finish his books before he can start living again. I cant wait to start living and feeling young again. Right now I feel like the cold front that has circled in the Midwest. Hopefully like the summer, the spirit that never leaves me and pushes me until the end will come back. Hopefully I’ll be allowed a damn vacation soon. Ha.

So with that said here’s to another week. I’ll drink a swell of my coffee to all the writers and books sellers and artists of the written word, for how strange of a badly defeated war we continue to fight, but well, at least it can be damn funny at times.

Peace.