No More Waiting

July 27, 2017

There are times when you have to say—no, SCREAM!—that enough is enough. You just can’t take it, you’re done, and any further attempts to get you seeing things from any other point of view simply won’t work anymore.

You probably think I’m referring to my attempts at getting published. I’m not, although there are several publications I wish would hurry up with any kind of contact. Nope, I’m talking about something that doesn’t affect me so much as an author as it does a reader, a fan, and a huge nerd.

George RR Martin. Specifically, his “A Song of Ice and Fire” series of books. More specifically than that, “The Winds of Winter,” the next book in the series.

This past weekend, Sand Diego ComicCon happened, once again overcrowded and full of all sorts of news. It was announced that Winds probably won’t hit until next year, 2018. Possibly even early 2019.

What the actual fuck?

I understand there are factors to consider here:

*It may have the seventh and final book alongside it (can’t remember the name, don’t feel like looking it up)

*He’s a busy man, contractually obligated to edit and write many, many other things.

*He’s got a history of lengthy waits between major projects.

I get it. I’ve been with him for a long time now. I first read A Game of Thrones back in 2002, and quickly devoured everything I could. But the wait for “Feast for Crows” and then “A Dance with Dragons” interfered with our enjoyment, but didn’t destroy it. For a long time, I was more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and accept that hey, he’s not perfect, and we might just have to wait.

But not anymore.

I’m done, and while that makes no difference to him or you or anyone, it’s awakened something in me I never really noticed before.

Yes, I’ve sat on projects. I’ve waited, gotten lazy, gotten sidetracked, and at times simply didn’t care. In fact, a novel I’m almost done with (and have been almost done with for several months now) has been collecting dust for quite a while. After numerous attempts to write it and stick with it, life happens.

But not anymore.

I’m making it clear to myself and everyone that no matter what, my projects will get done. I will write, edit, workshop, edit some more, and submit to the appropriate parties when I need to, and make sure it all gets done. No ifs ands or buts, my writing will be written, and (hopefully) read.

That’s my promise to you.

No projected dates of several years in the future, no “one of these days” bullshit promises, no nothing. Just a promise that if and when I start something, I’ll finish it.

My dad’s best advice to me was “Don’t talk about it, do it.” I’m living that advice right now and every day.

That’s my promise to you.

(And yes, I’m well aware of the TV series Game of Thrones. I don’t watch it and don’t want to. I’ve read those books at least three times each except for Dance, and the show deviates too much for me to enjoy it. Sorry, I know it bothers people that I made a decision that affects no one but me, but hey, there you go.)

Getting Through It

July 21, 2017

So I’ve been reading Tarzan of the Apes, the first book in Edgar Rice Burroughs’s epic series. It’s good! Adventurous and exciting, and ironic in that I’m a human, thus the enemy to most of the main characters in the book. Still, a fun romp and one of the greatest adventure tales ever. Can’t wait to read the rest.

I’ve been working on several adventure tales, actually. Mostly pirate stuff, but I have a few others up my sleeve. No shirtless main characters, but I’m (trying to) put fast-paced, exciting stories out there. Let’s just someone else takes notice of them!

Another shirtless guy I’ve been thinking about these past two days…

Chester Bennington. I’ve loved Linkin Park pretty much since I first heard them in 2000, and never really had a “who cares” phase regarding them. When I heard about his death yesterday, it was the first time I’ve ever actually cried at work, and in front of everyone. It didn’t matter, though, it hit me hard.

I don’t want to get into a huge thing about how suicide is no joke and shame on you for making stupid jokes about this, but I really wish people would come to their senses. I’ve written stories where characters kill themselves, and I’m definitely not glorifying it. It seems like the only way of a situation sometimes, and I can understand why someone would make that choice, but there are people who can help, even if it just means someone listening.

I tried it once, back when I was 20. When I woke up the next morning, I figured maybe this world has more in store for me, and I’ve embraced it, good and bad. Every time I think about it again, I think about all I’ll miss, and never have the chance to experience.

How many great books and stories will I miss out on? How many movies, TV shows, songs, concerts, parties, Old West End Festivals, weddings, births, sunny days, rainy days, and everything else will I forfeit the chance to experience? To some, that might not be enough to matter. To me, it’s more than enough.

It’s life. And that’s why I keep writing, even if no one publishes me or reads my stuff. It’s why I continue to read, watch, listen, enjoy, taste, touch, feel, love, live, and everything else.

I’ve been writing like crazy lately. Regardless of what those pretentious editors (and the nonpretentious ones that just don’t find my stories right for their publication) think, I’m going to keep doing it, too.