So, life is depressing at the moment.
Recently I found myself in a difficult position, homeless wasn’t exactly in the cards.
People always have a thought of how their life would turn out, but nothing ever goes according to plan, does it? We all have plans, and plans always change and update as life goes by. Sometimes good, sometimes shit just hits the fan and blows every plan out of the water, but I kind of believe I’m a resilient fucker.
I never really had plans in life, I tend to just go with the flow and live life as it comes. I learned years ago that if you make plans for anything, something always comes round the corner and fucks you up the ass sideways with a big ass donkey dick.
Pretty painful from what I’ve heard. So, as I said, I never really had plans for my life, it’s kind of freeing not living life to a schedule, but it also kind of sucks when something happens that isn’t expected.
But, that being said, sometimes when something good happens, it feels amazing. I haven’t sold any books for a few months now, which sucks ass, but doing a little marketing (yes, I suck at marketing) helped me sell 2 books in the past 12 hours (correct at time of writing, yes still correct, and yes I did just check haha). The writing part was easy, it was fun, it was an eye-opener into where this crazy mind can go and also what it can do. It was a proud moment when I finished my book, and an even prouder moment when I pressed that publish button.
All that hard work finally paid off, days and days of writing turned into months and months, never quite finished, never quite ready. But there comes a time when you literally have to say, “enough is enough”. Just press that damn button, press publish.
That is the advice I always give to other authors, it’s easier to give that kind of advice than it is to take such advice.
I mean, I’ve pressed publish 555 times (also correct at the time of writing), that’s 555 blog posts, not books. Yes, this will be blog post 556, if I post this before my next new 14-part series, which will extend beyond 14 posts.
But it is a completely different kind of pressure, posting these blogs is a pretty low kind of pressure. Although every post I ever post will be here forever, or at least as long as the internet survives, my words here will always outlast me. That’s how all the greatest artists survive beyond the inevitable end, isn’t it? (insert smug smile emoji here).
Anyway, it is a totally different kind of pressure for publishing a book. It is more of a physical, intimate affair, people can actually buy a physical copy, which can potentially outlast the internet. Which is next-level kind of crazy, there are literal physical (paperback and hardback) copies of my book out in the big wide world. That’s fucking scary, trust me.
The other thing is, there are digital copies that live in people’s phones or tablets, living in the clouds of people’s most loved stuff like photos and videos of their friends and families.
It’s a scary thought knowing the words I have written are being read by other people, but at the same time it’s exhilarating… It’s amazing.
So, yes, this is being written over a few sessions, maybe even over a couple of weeks, because getting the chance to write is rather difficult when you work a full-time job.
I’m currently sitting in Starbucks, drinking a cookies-and-cream frappuccino, typing random words and thoughts on a screen. I feel free and I feel good just writing some random shit, no aim and no plan.
Sometimes I’m writing this, sometimes adding a bit more to my next book. I say next book, I’m currently in the process of writing about 4 or 5 at the moment. The ideas and stories are pouring out of me, and it depends on what mood I’m in to which one I’m adding to.
At the moment, I’m writing this just to clear some space out of this damn mind of mine.
I’ve got a lot going on in life at the moment. As I said earlier, I’m currently homeless (not going into details, so don’t ask), sleeping where I can while also viewing properties, trying to find somewhere to live. I am actually pretty close to this little place I viewed a couple of weeks ago (again, accurate at the time of writing). It’s nothing special, but it’ll be mine. I’ll be making my own place my own home, and that makes me excited as fuck.
You see, life can be difficult sometimes. Life can be very difficult at times, but we have to just keep going, don’t we? If we gave up every time shit got tough, nothing would ever get done, would it?
Some people say everything makes us stronger, everything is a test, and every decision puts us onto a path we were meant to take (if you believe in that kind of shit). I’m starting to believe that kind of shit myself, because what else explains how difficult life can become? What else explains those strange coincidences that seem to influence the decisions we make?
Think about it. Every decision you’ve ever made has brought you to where you are today. Even the smallest, seemingly insignificant choices could have changed your entire life. One different decision ten years ago and you could be living somewhere completely different, surrounded by different people, living a life you wouldn’t even recognise.
But here’s what really gets my mind going. Even if you could go back and change something, who’s to say you’d be any happier? You might have avoided some of the shit you’ve been through, but you could have walked straight into something even worse. Or maybe something incredible.
And the crazy thing is, even in that completely different life, you’d probably still find yourself looking back, wondering about the decisions you made and asking yourself those same two little words.
“What if?”
As you can see, sometimes I write a little, sometimes a lot, and sometimes I leave this sitting here for a few days before coming back to it. It’s actually quite entertaining reading back through what I’ve written because I can usually tell what sort of mood I was in at the time. Sometimes I make a pretty decent point, sometimes I wonder what the actual fuck I was going on about.
But that’s the beauty of writing like this, isn’t it? I don’t have to make sense all the time. Half the time I don’t even make sense to myself, so expecting anyone else to understand what’s going on inside this ridiculous head of mine is probably asking a bit much.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about something else today.
Have you ever noticed how difficult it is to actually do nothing? And I don’t mean sitting on your arse watching television or scrolling through your phone for three hours. I mean genuinely doing absolutely nothing, without feeling guilty about it.
We’re constantly doing something, aren’t we? Working, cleaning, cooking, shopping, paying bills, answering messages, worrying about something that hasn’t even happened yet. Even when we finally get five minutes to ourselves, our brains seem determined to remind us of all the shit we haven’t done.
It’s bloody exhausting.
I sometimes wonder when we became so obsessed with being productive. When did sitting down and enjoying a bit of peace become something we feel guilty about? You can work your arse off all week, finally get a day to yourself, and somehow end up feeling like you’ve wasted it because you didn’t accomplish anything.
What the fuck is that all about?
And I’m just as guilty of it. There are times when I genuinely want to sit down and do absolutely nothing, but within minutes I’m thinking about something I should be doing. Perhaps I should write a bit more of my book, maybe sort something out, perhaps look at something I’ve been putting off for weeks.
Before I know it, that little bit of peace has turned into another bloody job.
People often say you need to learn how to switch off, which is wonderful advice if somebody could actually explain where the fucking switch is. I’ve been looking for mine for years, and I’m starting to suspect it was never installed in the first place.
Maybe that’s why I enjoy writing so much. I can sit here typing away, completely forgetting about everything else for a little while. My mind is still working, obviously, but it’s working on something I actually want it to work on.
Although, now that I think about it, even when I’m writing one thing, I’m usually thinking about three others. I’ll be halfway through a paragraph and suddenly have an idea for a completely different story. Then I’ll open another document so I don’t forget it, write a few sentences, and somehow end up back here wondering what I was originally talking about.
Honestly, it’s a miracle I’ve managed to finish anything.
But I do sometimes wonder what it would be like to have one of those minds that can just go quiet. To sit somewhere, watch the world go by and not have a thousand thoughts competing for attention.
Would I enjoy it? Would I find it peaceful? Or would I get bored after five minutes and start wondering what I could be doing instead?
Knowing me, probably the latter.
And perhaps that’s the problem. We’re so used to having something to think about, something to worry about or something to occupy our time that the idea of having absolutely nothing to do feels strangely uncomfortable.
I don’t actually know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I just find it interesting that we spend so much of our lives wishing we had more free time, yet when we finally get some, we don’t always know what the fuck to do with it.
Anyway, that’s where my mind has wandered today. I started this section talking about how much I write, and somehow I’ve ended up questioning why we’re all so bloody incapable of relaxing.
Welcome to my brain.
It’s a strange place to visit, and unfortunately, I’m stuck living here.
Actually, talking about my brain being a strange place, have you ever wondered what goes on inside other people’s heads?
I know that probably sounds like a ridiculous question because obviously everyone thinks about different things, but seriously, think about it for a moment.
You can walk past hundreds of people in a single day and have absolutely no idea what’s happening in their lives. Someone could be having the best day they’ve ever had, while the person walking directly behind them could be having the worst. And there you are, wandering past them both, probably thinking about what you’re having for dinner or whether you remembered to lock the front door.
It’s a strange thought, isn’t it?
I sometimes find myself looking at people and wondering what their lives are like. Not in a creepy, stalker kind of way, before anyone starts getting ideas. I’m just curious about people, everyone has a story, don’t they?
I wonder where they’re going, what they’re doing, whether they’re happy, whether they’ve got someone waiting for them at home.
Then I start wondering about all the little things that have happened in their lives to bring them to that exact moment, where our paths cross for a few seconds before we disappear into completely different directions, probably never to see each other again.
And now I’ve made walking past someone in Tesco sound like some kind of philosophical experience. Fuck sake, I only wanted a bottle of Coke and a chocolate bar (yes, those who know me will know it’ll be one of the big big slabs).
But it does make you think about how quickly we judge people.
We’ve all done it. You see someone behaving in a certain way and immediately form an opinion about them. Someone’s being rude, someone’s driving like a complete dickhead (yes, emphasise “dickhead” in a certain way, some people will be hearing it the way I say it), someone’s walking around with a face like a slapped arse. It’s incredibly easy to decide what kind of person someone is based on a few seconds of their behaviour.
But what do we actually know about them?
Absolutely fuck all.
Of course, sometimes people really are just dickheads (insert winking face emoji here). I’m not suggesting everyone deserves a free pass to behave like an arsehole simply because they might be having a bad day. We’ve all got problems, and taking them out on other people isn’t exactly the best way to deal with them.
Still, I do wonder how many times I’ve completely misunderstood someone. How many times have I made an assumption about somebody without knowing anything about them?
And how many people have done exactly the same thing to me?
That’s an interesting one, actually. We spend our entire lives being ourselves, knowing our own thoughts, remembering our experiences and understanding the reasons behind our decisions. Yet someone who meets us for five minutes can walk away with an opinion of us that couldn’t be further from the truth.
They might think you’re confident when you’re actually terrified. They might think you’re miserable when you’re simply tired. They might think you’re an arrogant prick when you’re actually just a little awkward around people you don’t know.
Or maybe you really are an arrogant prick. Who knows? Haha.
I suppose that’s another reason I enjoy writing fiction. You get to create people and decide what goes on inside their heads. You know their secrets, their fears, the things they want and the things they’d never admit to anyone. You can make a character behave like a complete arsehole and then show the reader something about them that changes how they see that character entirely.
Although sometimes the characters seem to have other ideas about what they’re supposed to be doing, and I end up writing something completely different from what I originally intended… Yes, ask any author, the characters take on a life of their own, pretty much like these “Thoughts of a writer” blogs.
Which is rather annoying considering I’m the one who’s supposed to be in control of the bloody story.
But I suppose that’s what makes writing enjoyable. You get to play around with people’s personalities, their thoughts and their reactions. You can put two completely different characters in exactly the same situation and watch how differently they respond.
And now I’m wondering whether that’s what we’re all doing in real life anyway. Just wandering around with our own thoughts, our own experiences and our own understanding of the world, occasionally bumping into other people who see absolutely everything differently.
Bloody hell, I really do think about some random shit, don’t I?
THEPLAINANDSIMPLEGUY
Still writing. Still listening.
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- Thoughts Of A Writer: Life, Chaos and a Head Full of Thoughts
- Thoughts Of A Writer. Ok, Let’s Take It Back.
- Monday Music, week 28. (Here Without You)
- Monday Music, week 27. (Dog Days Are Over)
- Monday Music, week 26. (Qué Será Será)
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