And away we go

So… what’s the first question we ask ourselves when we decide to start a blog?

What the hell do I write about???

So, here we are. Wondering what this blog is going to be about. I can’t give tips because I haven’t done anything successful enough for that. My only tip is write and don’t stop writing because before you can be an AUTHOR you have to be a WRITER.

All I really have is this journey. The submissions and rejections. The days spent staring into the abyss while trying to rip words out of my brain and put them on the page. This used to be a whole lot easier. So maybe that’s what I’ll start with today. Why this is harder than it used to be.

MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS

Let’s start there, because that’s where everything returns.

I have what they call Treatment Resistant Depression (TDR). This basically means that I’ve tried just about every anti-depressant known to man and none of them did much for longer than a few months then right back down the drain. I’ve always managed to push through it, finding some reason to stay alive and keep going. Writing usually was part of that. You have no idea the number of times I’ve taken out a character because if I hurt them I didn’t hurt myself. For a very long time, that’s just how I handled things.

Cue 2020. I lost my job. COVID hit. I was sitting on my bed with a handful of 150mg Trazadone, ready to just be done. Then Chloe (cute little aggravating Shi Poo that she is) put a tiny white paw on my wrist. I looked at her and she had the most deep, soulful eyes and they just said, “You don’t want to do that.” She was wrong. I did want to do it. But with her looking at me like that, I couldn’t do it, so I put them back in the bottle and went to sleep. (Six years later, I can’t get her to leave me alone. She’s not even my dog. She’s my sister’s dog but decided to emancipate herself and now suddenly I’m her mom).

Anyway, I kept waking up. I made up all kinds of excuses. I couldn’t die before I finally saw the Top Gun sequel. I had to see Hawkeye. I had to get to Loki and Falcon and Winter Soldier. Stephen King has a book coming out and it’s already on pre-order so I can’t waste that. Anything I could think of became a reason, and I tell this to people when I’m working, too. People are so often afraid to share the thing that keeps them going because they think it’s stupid. It’s not stupid if it makes you wake up another day. And if the only thing you have that’s getting you going in a movie you’ve been anticipating for 3 decades, then that’s your reason. At least you got up.

Then one day, I got an idea. I won’t go into detail because that’ll be up for discussion soon enough. But that idea got me writing. That idea had me finishing a 100K word novel in about 2 months. I was on fire! And I had all these ideas to keep going, plus the other ideas for other stuff and IDEAS IDEAS IDEAS. I started grinding. I got a content editor. I made myself a workspace. I wrote daily, even if it was just a few words here or there, and it was going really well.

Until about 3 years ago when the TDR hit hard and pulling myself out of bed was a struggle. I got up to go to work and that’s it. I was sleeping 12 hours a day, even more on my days off. I had some disassociation. I had tons of SI. And I made a decision to get on meds again. That of course, didn’t do a whole lot. TDR, remember? I threw therapy in there, too, and it also helped. But it didn’t stop my PHQ from being worrisome to others. Whenever there was a new CMA or nurse before my appointments, the poor thing was always shaken up. I’ve been asked to safety plan or contract for safety more times than I can count. Then my ARNP brought up Spravato - nasal esketamine treatment approved for TDR. And holy shit, it rocked my world! I looked up one day about 6-8 months in and realized I didn’t want to off myself anymore. I could actually answer Not At All on the questionnaire. And then I started experiencing shit like happiness - holy hell! Is this how people who just make seratonin on the regular feel? What is this? I don’t know if I like it. Even more, I don’t know if I want to like it.

See, here’s the thing. My baseline for 30 years had been depressed and suicidal. I had never written anything that wasn’t under a cloud of depression. Now, there I was, feeling out this whole happy thing and not wanting to kill myself — Could I even write like this?

Two years of me being afraid to try because what if I fail. What if I can’t do it? What if the only talent I had was laced with despair?

Oh, and pain. Let’s not forget pain, because it turns out I’ve been living most of my life with undiagnosed endometriosis, and with a baseline pain level of 3-4. I’m currently wrapping up my FMLA from the total hysterectomy, oopherectomy, and salpengectomy that I got and now, now only am I not depressed, I don’t hurt!

Oh shit. Can I do it?

And the answer finally ended up being, yes, I can. It’s not as smooth and easy as it was before. I’m not throwing down 5K words a day like I used to. But I’m still getting words. I’m getting word counts that are more on brand for someone who isn’t pouring their soul out on paper to run away from life and everything attached to it. I’m writing like a person who stops sometimes and stares. I’m writing like a person balancing out her hormones so sometimes, the brain fog is real. I’m writing like a person who knows that it can be done and remembers an important idea - editing is where the magic happens (Thanks, Tina!). I have always hated editing, but get with someone who loves it and you’ll … hate it a little less. And you’ll write a little more. Because guess what? That first draft doesn’t have to be perfect. It can be complete and utter ass. It can be verbal diarrhea on the page, because eventually, it’ll be what it deserves to be. It’ll be the representation of you.

And now, here we are. Doing the thing. Putting in queries and submissions. Accepting rejections with minimal crash outs. And getting right back to it.

Welcome to my brain, folks. Please keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times. It’s going to be a bumpy fucking ride - and I can’t wait to share it with you.