No More Magical Thinking

Three years ago upon this day, I wrote and uploaded my very first entry in this blog. Please don’t go back and read it. It’s weird. Very weird - I don’t even know what I was trying to do, nor do I feel like I relate to the writer I was trying to be back then. I started this blog because I reckoned I needed some credentials to put on display while I polished up my books and began the long journey of querying. The thing is, a credential is useless unless you use it wisely - in fact, a mishandled credential, for all of its potential benefits, can become a hindrance if used incorrectly. This month, I’m breaking from form entirely. There will be no writing update, there will be no tips from my writing journey, or at least, none that are deliberate. This entry is just me looking back on the experience of writing this blog so that I can move on to the next phase, whatever that might be.

Back to the topic of that very first entry, originally posted on October 18th, 2018. The reason I picked that date was because that date was one that I long ago, nigh arbitrarily, selected as the date that I would self-publish my first book. It was not the first such date that I had selected for self-publication, yet every time I approached one of those self-imposed deadlines, I had grown enough as a writer to realize that the book was not ready. As I continued to grow, I developed a much better idea of what all it takes for a book to be “ready”. I still don’t know the answer for certain, but I do feel confident that I’m leagues beyond where I had been before in my understanding of all things writing and publishing. Essentially, I know now how far I still have to go.

That original entry (again, please don’t read it) was a strange one. It was a rumination on the number 18 - one of my lucky numbers, or perhaps more appropriate, a magical number (one of a few if you can believe it). This was part of the reason why that particular date was so special to me at the time. I made a few allusions to why it was a magical number and what it meant to me, which were mostly just coincidences that I retained over time (they jump out from everywhere once you start looking for them). The plain truth of it was that October 18th is a very important date for me. That original October 18th was many, many years ago, and there was nothing too special about it, other than it was one of the first nights I hung out with a group of friends who would more or less remain my close friends for a couple years in high school. I went with them to my first ever haunted house and developed my first incredibly cringey, overly drawn out teenage crush. That night, over the years and through the filter of my memories, became emblematic of an era of my adolescence that solidified the person I was destined to become. There may have been a little more to it than that, but regardless, my love for horror, for the autumn, and the overall type of vibes I would pursue with my life and creative works all cemented into place on that date - or so I like to remember it. As time went by, that nostalgia warped into a fondness for the number 18 itself, simply because it remained in the back of my mind for so long, ergo I continued to see the number pop up here and there with a perceived resonance (the 18th Major Arcana in the Tarot was one of my favorite examples). Yes, I know that’s fucking weird, that’s what I’m copping to here (and it’s not lost on me what many regular folks’ first associate with that number likely is - and that’s a big, gross yikes I wish I had thought about sooner). This idea of self-styled symbolism convoluted much of my early works from those early teenage years, on into the earliest iterations of my first novel. I was stuck in my own head, spinning in circles over bizarre criteria that meant nothing to anyone but myself. I was lost in magical thinking.

Starting this blog was good. It was an earnest step forward, and it helped me to learn about audiences and how to gain (or not gain) readership. I made it another arbitrary goal to ensure that I had an entry posted every month - however, I was never picky about what day in the month that would be (with a few exceptions, such as this one). Of course, if I really wanted to earn a readership with this blog, I should have done more research, posted with more consistency, and made sure the content was something that the audience I wanted to build would be interested in. Instead, I met this criteria of posting every month because that was my own rhythm - another piece of my own magical thinking.

I’m not trying to hate on all forms of magical thinking - in fact, I think creativity in general is a second cousin to the concept of magical thinking. But magic can only get you so far, especially when you don’t put in the work to harness it properly! I’m ready to put in that work now - and when I say the work, I mean the hard stuff. The foundation. So much needs to be dug up so I can start fresh, and I can’t do that so long as I keep the smoldering wreckage of my own burnout on my to do list every month.

All that said, this entry marks my final monthly entry in this blog. I intend to keep the blog around and hopefully post when I actually have meaningful updates to share with a readership once I’ve actually managed to build one. I simply will no longer hold myself to the random criteria of one entry a month. This means no more taking exasperating pauses from my current WIPs so I can post up some nonsense here for no one to read. I’m hoping this last entry of that era marks the beginning of one more fruitful and more beautiful.

I apologize for the vibes that have been present in this blog for the past several months. Would you believe I’m fighting tooth and nail these days? I know this is just another such entry, but I do want to make the statement that despite previous allusions, I’m not giving up on writing novels or publishing. I may be a little more jaded than I was, I may no longer have as many dreams as I once did, but I’m still going to do the thing. The work is going to be hard - not the writing, not anymore than it has been. But the actual work that I need to do on myself before I can achieve success, that will be the hard part. This year I’ve already begun to do everything in my power to improve myself and my life, even as it’s continued to crumble apart, even as the world keeps wishing me dead, I’m going to be the best version of myself because there is no other choice. That soon-to-come version of me will be more capable of not only reviving those withering dreams, but of seeing them through. I’ve come to understand that unless that necessary work is done, I’m just fucked. Simple as that.

Given that this was the last entry for some time (perhaps there might be one more this year…), I was dreading having to put in the polish and effort to bow out with something actually worth reading. Unfortunately, it’s just not there inside me right now. The machine that keeps the word count climbing is down for repairs, and the only thing I can muster is a strained send off. But at least it’s honest, and that’s crucial. Honesty is one of the few things writers should absolutely give us, but I have a lot of figuring to do before I can even be fully honest with myself. Just know I’m getting there.

So maybe this isn’t how I had things planned out before, but I’ve learned how to make better plans than the person I was three years ago (and especially 18 years ago - back on that original October 18th night that had inspired me so much... Oh man, would you believe I just now realized it’s been as many years? How’s that for magic). I won’t give up, so you promise yourself as you read this right now that you won’t give up on your thing either, whatever it is. Don’t stop fighting. Don’t stop creating. Don’t stop dreaming… So until the next time our journeys meet, thank you for reading.