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Hey I'm an aspiring writer struggling with motivation due to my depression and I keep hearing about various other writers, some of whom are famous still being able to keep up a decent work ethic despite of their disability. How do I become like them? Does anyone here got any advice?
In order to become a good writer do you have to have years of experience and need to have read hundreds of books by other authors to figure out what sounds good? I'd like to get into writing but I have no experience and I also havent read many books. I only listen to audio books mostly horror and thriller. I wish I knew somebody personally who writes professionally cause I have so many questions. I also dont know how much having OCD would be a problem. Cause when I think for example about how to describe a certain scenario or situation then I'm unsure and always wonder does this sound good or would something else sound better? My concern is that I'd constantly think about sentences and then try to rephrase them. How can you even decide if something is good or not? For example if I tried to describe the same scenario different times on different days then basically it would always be different. It would never sound the same but then how shall I know which version is best?! What I also ask myself is how in the world did authors do it in the past without computers? Today you can simply erase a sentence or change it or you can move whole paragraphs. But in the past with old typewriters they couldnt do this. They couldnt erase sentences all the time or change them. Does this mean that back then writing was totally different cause basically you had to be absolutely certain that a sentence which you formulate in your head sounds good because you couldnt rephrase it? I imagine that writing was much harder when you simply had no option to correct yourself.
OMFG I typed a shit ton and accidentally swiped the bluetooth mouse and the whole thing disappeared. So TECH SUCKS. Surgeons suck, especially when they don't listen to me and do things and then accuse me of abusing narcotic painkillers. Seriously?! Rich asshole, listen up. Had morphine 3X in my life, all three in the hospital when I was in blinding ass pass-out level pain. I don't take painkillers on the whole because they don't fucking work on me anyway. Plus they have this dumbassed arrogant attitude that gives them the moxie to tell me, this is a complication free procedure, what you're describing can't be happening. Well tell that to the ER doc who took one look at my knee and calf and drained 200 cc of blood out of it and tells me its a fucking normal complication, rare, but it can happen. Surgeon ends up next day draining 120CC blood out of my knee that filled up again in seven hours—and yells at me because he gives me the smallest single hit of lidocaine [sIC] so I'm climbing up the damned walls in pain. I usually can't do locals because I can take like ten doses and still feel every goddamned thing they're doing. But he uses that as a basis to tell That Woman I Live With I'm a drug abuser. Awesome. Surgeons can really suck. It took me four weeks to get the surgery— two weeks over the 100% rapid recovery outcome for a dude my age with that injury. All because some rich asshole on a medical group's insurance panel says, it's not medically necessary. Seriously dipshit?! I RUN for a living. It's my fucking JOB. So insurance people suck too. Anyway, being injured for two months and another 4-6 weeks in PT & rehabbing the knee I should be able to go back to work just in time for league finals and HS season. Yay! An entire season without income also SUCKS! (more so when you suddenly have to hire a defense atty to protect your son). So I had even more "free time" to work on the fiction author stuff. One of the four novels is a stretch piece. I've never written a Romance or Erotic Romance before. I did an initial round of queries to pubs, get the ole chestnut, 'love your work send us more... but this one we can't use right now.' yay. Whatevs. stock and trade. Not that big of a deal. But I want this thing out there and off my shoulders. So I want to go the indie route but I need an indie editor. I need some beta readers too because I've been celibate against my will for 14 years so I have no fucking idea beyond my research (reading a shit ton of other people's EroRom work) what's "hot" to the median 39yo female reader and fan of EroRom. I friend who's a copy editor some how decides after like a year of my going on about this friggin story asks me for the logline. I pitch it. She loved it. turns out she's a huge fan of EroRom. Her guilty pleasure YAY! progress, finally! Chapter 3 is the big rip roaring floor furniture and chandelier chapter. and I have no idea if it's laughable or legit. She gets to the end of Chapter two and her life blows up. OFFS. So I get 8 beta readers. mostly not the demographic and only two admitted EroRom readers. One person stops at chap 1 and says, hate it. Awesome I figure I got 7 others and two I really need to listen to. Weeks, months go by. I send inquires of them. SILENCE. So betas readers who say they want to read and don't and don't even have the moxie to say, I can't do it just totally SUCK too. The other three novels and now five shorts over the summer I have regular betas for. Suddenly this week as I'm ready to send them stuff they've been asking for all summer as I worked text me and say, 'sorry, I'm out, my life blew up (divorce dead parent, etc.).' Aw fuck. What can you do, right? So a friend at a Con says, hey I know this editor who's between things and she loves your work. Awesome. I contact her. She gets back to me and says, I'll do it, but right now I have three friends dying of cancer in MT, VA and PA. Hopefully by December but I definitely want to do it. YAY.... December. I have four novels, five stories I'll have completely editor ready by Oct 1st. Sure I'll still be pounding out content in the meantime, I'm a workaholic and I work around the clock since I can't work games until my knee is 100%. But the shorts could be out there now if I had the editorial support that I lost. At least one of the novels could be out there too. The production plan was Oct 1st but everyone's lives blew up. That totally fucking SUCKS. Oh yeah, my website disappears on me, and the ISP domain host can't figure it out and when I tried to reupload it something weird happened and it's inaccessible. Awesome. I meet with a designer friend who said four months ago she could help with the platform tech. YAY. This week she says she's retiring "to follow her bliss." Jeebiz fuck me. Now that I've wasted an hour writing this rant, I better get back to work. When the dam finally breaks I don't want to be all, 'uh, i bailed out.' I just have no one to talk to so... yeah.
I write. Not as much as I should, but that's going to change. However, I've never been published as a fiction writer, so I decided to do something about it. Many of you here probably suffer from anxiety-related issues. So d I. No matter how calm and cool I ever am on the outside, I'm usually one step away from falling apart on the inside, even with meds. I know it's going to take a while for my brain synapses to stitch themselves back into a workable pattern, so I'm trying to be patient. Meanwhile I'm doing the best I can to help the process along by being more creative. As I said, I write. And after several months of letting self-doubt rule me, I finally sent a story off to an online magazine. It's the second time I've done it with this story, but I think I have a shot of it being accepted. According to one of the editors, I can only send in one story at a time. I'm going to try to use this as an excuse to write one story a week. I'm terrified. I hate picturing being laughed at. I keep thinking of all the things wrong with me, and how messed up my life is right now. And then I remember that Dickens had depression, and Jane Austen was probably bipolar. Stephen King? A verbally abusive drunk who was a second-rate school teacher from a small town in Maine. JK Rowling? Poor, and at one point on the dole. James Baldwin was a disaster area. So was Hemingway. My hero, Steve Jobs, was bipolar like me. I am not a failure. I'm having a great opportunity to learn. I can turn this bug into a feature. Right now I am neither manic nor depressed (I actually write better when depressed than when I'm manic, and I write best of all when I'm stable like I am now), which means it's a great time to write.