The Road So far… or the Start of a Returning Career
May, 2018
Hello all, and happy October!
I wanted to get this thing started months ago, though all my time writing has been going towards the new book. So, with it now being the spookiest month of the year, I figured there wouldn’t be a better time to get the pumpkin rolling (sorry) on the future of what’s to come, as well as touch on some stuff that has been going on in the past year. Maybe it will help someone, I don’t know.
Let’s go.
Then
In April of 2020, I began work on the rough draft of a new book, specifically, a novel. Considering my previous book was the true story of my family’s life, you can find that here -> [A Brief Story of an Exceptional Divorce] which writing was a completely different experience, this time, my approach would differ in how I wrote. Instead of going off pure memory and a few statements here and there, I’d be creating people and worlds, something I have always wanted to do; it’s something I was looking forward to doing. This was it.
I made it to October of 2020, six months after the release of my first book, until overcoming my mountainous naivety and reaching the realization that becoming a full time author (as well as taking on the grandiose amount work I wanted to put into this novel) was more than just writing your first book, publishing, and getting it out there, with that last one being the biggest challenge. I was producing music for six or seven years before I delved into formally writing with intent, so I knew the immensely difficult task of getting your work out there was harder than creating the work itself, at least for me. With that, I decided that it was probably a good idea to get a job on the side until I could position writing as my career.
It started out great, though I was most certainly doing something I never thought I would partake in that wasn’t around the yard, or for my family, hard labor. I would start work at 7 a.m., finish around 3:30 p.m., come home, sleep, and try to write as much as I could before having to repeat that same process the next day. It worked, though as time went on, my stress and tired levels would rise higher, while my creative drive would get lower. Eventually, about six months into my job, the desire to write, create music, basically do anything that wasn’t relaxing or hang out with friends, was almost gone. The thing that drove me my entire life, to be creative, was leaving me. I never felt that feeling before, losing a massive part of me, that made me who I am. Alec was slowly leaving.
Fast forward another month, I was losing weight not because of the strenuous activity that my job required of me, but the stress it was giving me. I have always been an easy-going person, going with the flow, not letting things get to me, and that profile followed me to work. Though with this job, I would come home, attempt to decompress, but instead would start stressing about the next day, without the thought of writing even crossing my mind. I’d lose myself in a movie or show, a book or video game, until I’d have to go to sleep and go back to work the next day. When Friday came, I wouldn’t even be excited for the weekend, I would just start dreading Monday, and the thought of having to deal with all the stress-inducing ridiculousness all over again until that next work week was upon me.
That isn’t to say that I hated every day at work, no way. A few of the people I met there became great friends, and I wouldn’t have met them otherwise, so I am very thankful for that fact alone, but also, it made me realize that that place was slowly killing me, and I was comfortable with it. It wasn’t the work itself, though. I have done things that could resemble hard labor my entire life, as my family firmly believes in getting things done yourself, only hiring others if it is absolutely necessary (which is probably where I get my determination to do everything without help); it was the place. Barring those few people I had mentioned above, the place was perfect for shredding off any inch of happiness and leaving one with nothing but anxiety and anger. But, because I am who I am, I just took it. Whatever. That’s part of life, right? Work? Stress? Deal with it …It is what it is.
Now, this isn’t a debate on whether one should have to endure unwanted and unnecessary feelings in order to get what you want. I still fully believe and stand by the fact that hard work is important, and that will never change. Making money is an undeniably, crucial and inescapable part of life. No one is saying otherwise. Sacrifices are also part of life, which is why I quit that job, now almost two months ago. If my parents weren’t the most supportive people on this planet, I would still be there too, because I was comfortable, despite getting mentally and physically unhealthier by the day. My mom and dad saw what was becoming of me, and they didn’t like it. Neither did I. So, I took a chance, and started writing full time, committing every day to doing what I want to do for the rest of my life; just write.
Every day people sacrifice something they want to do, for something more practical. Not me. Life is way too short to just ride the same, safe train everyone else is taking. Why not take the fun one? That’s just me, though, and I couldn’t be more thankful that I am able to take the fun train.
If you have made it this far, it’s time for the—
Now