To-day was an expression of most weeks, boss not paying me on time, bills to pay etc etc, ‘cept this week he sent his wife to pay me… Smooth.
Thing is the pay isn’t great and I hate not getting paid on time, or even knowing if that pay will come on Friday (*I get paid weekly*) so I have something for the weekend, and I always get the impression that when I ask to be paid on Saturday because for what ever reason I wasn’t paid in the days before, I feel like I’m putting him out, like I’m doing something wrong by asking. I like most of the work we do. I like Mondays. And although my boss and the guy I work with can annoy me sometimes, I get on well enough with them both. But at the end of the day, I don’t want to do Landscaping for the rest of my life.
That’s why the title is, *Sigh, I want to write novels. I want to write and sell novels. I want to write, sell, and make a living writing novels. I want to be a Published Author.
Is that to much to ask?
I ask myself that a lot in this blog…
I always get that;
> I need to do something about my current circumstances.
Feeling when shit starts to draft away from where I want to be.
I started working as a Landscaper because I was unemployed and in need of money, I hated being a security guard, and this was the first job that came my way that wasn’t that. I like the work, mostly, but it isn’t where I’d like to be. So what do I need to do to get to where I’d like to be?
Well, in short, I need to write. Simple as that. I need to edit and finish my novel. I need to research/study criminology and psychopathology (*to give my villains more depth*) I need I need I need. I need a lot of things, but most of all I need to get out of this comfortable feeling. My Comfort Zone.
I like it, It’s great, I work I get paid, I can buy things. But my biggest problem is Me.
I can’t seem to focus on my goals. I get distracted easily. All the shiny things, all the TV shows and movies to watch. All the social media posts to like and share. All the YouTube videos to view.
We live in a world of distractions, where everything seems more amplified than it did 10 years ago. And I can’t organise my thoughts around all this. My focus is pulled from side to side and I spend my days watching shit, and procrastinating about not being where I think I should be.
I know that in order to get there I need to “Put in the Work”, I need to focus (*that magic word again*) on what I want, and where I want to be. But I find it difficult to just sit and write every day…
Maybe I can’t be a writer!
Maybe I don’t want it bad enough!
Maybe I just too lazy to put in the work!
Every job I’ve had, I’ve been good at. I pick things up quickly, and it’s that which I think is why I get comfortable with what ever job I have. After awhile, it just becomes easy. But writing isn’t easy. It’s a long, slow process of write, edit, repeat. Also on top of that the expense of hiring editors. Finding someone who’s job it is to help you write a good novel, not just read it and then give an opinion.
Anything worth having is worth fighting for I guess. No one ever made a success of themselves but waiting for it to just happen. Waiting for success leads to one thing; You, sitting alone, wishing to had done something. But it’s to late now, your old, you’re gonna die soon. So do something now, roll over and die.
If you want to achieve something, work for it. If you want to be successful, Put in the hours. If you have to sacrifice your social life and some friends, then that’s how it is. Good friends will hang around. Those that don’t weren’t good friends, they only cared their happiness, not yours. Those are the friends that get upset when you disagree with them, that moan when you want to do something they don’t. The friend that must always be the centre of attention.
Right now it’s 15:30 on a Saturday afternoon and I’m here typing this out and wondering if I should open that bottle of Bourbon Whiskey. Maybe I should.
I think I already live a writers lifestyle. Very little by way of a social life. Spend to much time in front of my computer. Drink lots of whisky. And spend most Friday and Saturday nights in.
Rock bottom. Sometimes I wonder if I need to hit it first before I realise that how fucking lazy I am… But I always seem to be floating just above it. In that comfortable zone where ‘Risk’ isn’t a factor. I live a risk free life, and for most people I can imagine that living a risk free life is a good thing. Which is why most people wake up at the crack of dawn. Commute to work 6 days a week. Eat bland, stogie lunches. Work their asses off to make money for other people. The commute with 7 million other people back to their homes where they arrive, if their lucky, around 7pm, have a quick dinner, watch reality television then go to bed in order to repeat it all again the next day.
That readers is my idea of Purgatory. You’re just waiting to die.
I try, I really do, I try to get motivated to write the best novel I can. But my attention will get drawn away and a few weeks later I’ll start to procrastinate again. I’ll write another blog post about it and my self-doubt. Self-hate. Self-Loathing. All. That negative Self-stuff will come flooding back. I work with people that have only ever had one job. Landscaping is all they have done or thought about doing. Neither of them have aspirations to be anything else, they are happy to just be, Landscapers.