Or something like that...
I have attended a couple of meetings of a local writers' group. They meet at a library once a month. It's a casual gathering. A few people show up and we talk about books and someone might read. We talk movies, sports, hometowns, it's like a million first dates.
Part of me, a part I hardly recognize, wants structure. The part of me that is hones knows I'll probably complain about the meetings if they were structured. I have always hated structure. That ain't about to change.
I think the biggest benefit for me is that there are others who are going through the same thing I am going through. Someone understands. I told you that to tell you this:
It's okay to talk to someone. Not about writing, necessarily. I should say not only about writing. A friend of mine recently had a meltdown. She attacked me. I didn't take it personally. I recognized the symptoms. She was going through a lot and trying to take on the world by herself. Not a good idea. She had a couple of drinks and now has six stitches and what promises to be a fairly prominent scar on an otherwise beautiful face. I expect she'll rock the hell out of that scar.
Talk to someone who understands and cares. Talk to someone who's been there. Just talk to someone.
Adolfo Jimenez is not a mental health expert, though he has known several over the years. He is a writer, blogger, poet, husband, and dad living in Hollywood, Florida.
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Do Something
Just do something. It won't always be great. That's okay. The important thing is that you do something. You can always go back and edit your work.
It was my birthday last night. Always a painful day for me. Some might say by choice. I went out with my wife and daughters. We ate a lot and drank a little. I have to reverse that. Food kills me in a way that booze doesn't. Don't know why. It just does.
I've been up since three this morning. I read for a while, then I tried to go back to sleep. Nope. I read a little more. Tried to sleep again. Nothing doing.
I finally dragged my fat ass out of bed around 7:30. I feel like I ate a car battery. But here I am, writing this blog. I also wrote a poem about the experience. Why let a gastrointestinal crisis go to waste?
There is something to be gained from every experience. As a writer, I want to write about these experiences. I want to share them. That's what I mean about not letting them go to waste. The story itself may not be great, but there may be some splinter of usefulness in there somewhere. And besides, it keeps the muscles loose.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go vomit.
Adolfo Jimenez is an old fart living in Hollywood, FL. He is an author, poet, blogger, and drinker. He is not a competitive eater. His website is http://www.adolfojimenez.com
It was my birthday last night. Always a painful day for me. Some might say by choice. I went out with my wife and daughters. We ate a lot and drank a little. I have to reverse that. Food kills me in a way that booze doesn't. Don't know why. It just does.
I've been up since three this morning. I read for a while, then I tried to go back to sleep. Nope. I read a little more. Tried to sleep again. Nothing doing.
I finally dragged my fat ass out of bed around 7:30. I feel like I ate a car battery. But here I am, writing this blog. I also wrote a poem about the experience. Why let a gastrointestinal crisis go to waste?
There is something to be gained from every experience. As a writer, I want to write about these experiences. I want to share them. That's what I mean about not letting them go to waste. The story itself may not be great, but there may be some splinter of usefulness in there somewhere. And besides, it keeps the muscles loose.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go vomit.
Adolfo Jimenez is an old fart living in Hollywood, FL. He is an author, poet, blogger, and drinker. He is not a competitive eater. His website is http://www.adolfojimenez.com
Saturday, July 20, 2019
Tough Choices
Being a writer is a lot like being a minor god. You are the god for the universe you are creating. Even if there is a god in your story, you tell him what to do.
Don't let that go to your head.
You're still just a schmuck like the rest of us.
I recently published a novella, The Man in the Gray Sky. I sold a few copies, gave a few copies away, and felt good about it over all.
Then I read it.
I withdrew it. With the perspective only time can give, I realized the book wasn't ready to be published. I was like a kid on his way to Disney, jumping out of the car before his dad parked the car. (Yes, this happened when I was a kid... many times, many places!)
It was tough to unpublish my book. It was like admitting defeat. Again, as I take a little time to think about it. It's not an admission of defeat. It's a momentary retreat to regroup and resume the attack.
This has given me a chance to rethink the book and the follow-up to it, which I just finished a week ago, and the direction of the series and the characters. There is no shame in pulling out. In this case, it's a very responsible thing to do. My readers will appreciate it - both of them.
Don't let that go to your head.
You're still just a schmuck like the rest of us.
I recently published a novella, The Man in the Gray Sky. I sold a few copies, gave a few copies away, and felt good about it over all.
Then I read it.
I withdrew it. With the perspective only time can give, I realized the book wasn't ready to be published. I was like a kid on his way to Disney, jumping out of the car before his dad parked the car. (Yes, this happened when I was a kid... many times, many places!)
It was tough to unpublish my book. It was like admitting defeat. Again, as I take a little time to think about it. It's not an admission of defeat. It's a momentary retreat to regroup and resume the attack.
This has given me a chance to rethink the book and the follow-up to it, which I just finished a week ago, and the direction of the series and the characters. There is no shame in pulling out. In this case, it's a very responsible thing to do. My readers will appreciate it - both of them.
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Discouragement
Last night was rough.
I fell asleep fast, though late. I had a dream that woke me up and went back to sleep.
I woke up late.
Exhausted.
Unable to work.
But I sat at my desk.
And I tried.
And I tried.
And I tried.
I couldn't get no... satisfactory work done.
It's not writer's block.
It's not the end of the world.
It's calling in sick.
I need a day to shake this... feeling.
It's just... one of those things.
I fell asleep fast, though late. I had a dream that woke me up and went back to sleep.
I woke up late.
Exhausted.
Unable to work.
But I sat at my desk.
And I tried.
And I tried.
And I tried.
I couldn't get no... satisfactory work done.
It's not writer's block.
It's not the end of the world.
It's calling in sick.
I need a day to shake this... feeling.
It's just... one of those things.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Quit Your Day Job!
Don't! I meant to say Don't Quit Your Day Job!
The allure of art is strong. But the allure of food and shelter are stronger. It's a wonderful thing to be an artist; to spend the day with your head in the clouds and the evening at a party with the glitterati. But it doesn't happen to everyone.
I work a full-time plus job. I make a decent living. I complain about it all the time. And as a result, I am writing this blog in the comfort of my lovely home with the air cooled to a comfortable temperature.
There are countless stories of starving artists who make it big but there are more stories of the ones who starved and had to go back to the real world. And there are plenty of stories that ended in worse ways.
If you have responsibilities, meet them. If you're young and still live at home, chase your dream for as long as your parents will allow. If you have a sugar daddy or sugar mommy, good for you!
But be responsible. I don't want to support you with my tax dollars.
Adolfo Jimenez is a writer living in Hollywood, FL. His first published novella, The Man in the Gray Sky, was released in April 2019. The follow up, A Season in Exile, is scheduled for release in September 2019.
The allure of art is strong. But the allure of food and shelter are stronger. It's a wonderful thing to be an artist; to spend the day with your head in the clouds and the evening at a party with the glitterati. But it doesn't happen to everyone.
I work a full-time plus job. I make a decent living. I complain about it all the time. And as a result, I am writing this blog in the comfort of my lovely home with the air cooled to a comfortable temperature.
There are countless stories of starving artists who make it big but there are more stories of the ones who starved and had to go back to the real world. And there are plenty of stories that ended in worse ways.
If you have responsibilities, meet them. If you're young and still live at home, chase your dream for as long as your parents will allow. If you have a sugar daddy or sugar mommy, good for you!
But be responsible. I don't want to support you with my tax dollars.
Adolfo Jimenez is a writer living in Hollywood, FL. His first published novella, The Man in the Gray Sky, was released in April 2019. The follow up, A Season in Exile, is scheduled for release in September 2019.
Monday, July 15, 2019
Productivity
How do you do it all?
Has anyone ever asked you that? Have you ever met someone and wondered how they do it all? There's a simple answer: they don't. They prioritize. No one does everything.
I have five priorities:
1) Family
2) Working (being a provider)
3) Writing
4) Reading
5) Alone time
I manage to get all of these. My family is, obviously, the most important thing in my life. Everything I do to take care of them and to earn their respect. So, I guess the first one is easy since everything I do is, in some way, for them.
I work hard. I earn a living. Not millions, but a solid income that provides food and shelter and vacation twice a year with the occasional weekend getaway.
I write because it's what I want to do with my life. I would love to make a living as a writer. As yet, I don't. Once I do, I'll quit my job. So, while writing is something I love, I treat it like work. It's not a hobby. It's not something I squeeze in between reruns and social engagements. I write. Period.
Reading is important to me as an individual and as a writer. I think we all need to read more. It gives me sanity. It makes me a better writer, and more importantly, a better man.
Alone time is key to mental survival. I drive myself to work and home every day. This is alone time. I often call my parents in the morning (okay every morning) to say hello but the drive home is mine. I listen to audio books or music or the sounds of the world. I drive a convertible and when the weather permits, driving with the top down is great therapy for me.
This is my daily routine. How do I find the time?
I wake up early, around five AM. I write for a couple of hours then I read. Phone calls in the car to mom and dad. I try not to work more hours than necessary. I'm not lazy, I just go to work and I work. I make every minute count (for the most part.) I take a lunch break every day. Often alone, sometimes with a friend. When solo, I read while I munch. I listen to a book in my car on the way home and have dinner with the family. I read as I digest. Later when the kids are asleep I make the sweet love to my wife (sometimes, I'm old) and sleep about six hours.
No, I don't watch TV. A little once in a while. Sometimes on the weekends, but I don't keep up with the Kartrashians. I don't watch the bachelor at the whorehouse, and I certainly don't watch news. Life is depressing enough
So, decide what matters. Make a list of what matters. Toss out everything that doesn't matter.
Get.
Shit.
Done.
Keep writing,
Adolfo
Has anyone ever asked you that? Have you ever met someone and wondered how they do it all? There's a simple answer: they don't. They prioritize. No one does everything.
I have five priorities:
1) Family
2) Working (being a provider)
3) Writing
4) Reading
5) Alone time
I manage to get all of these. My family is, obviously, the most important thing in my life. Everything I do to take care of them and to earn their respect. So, I guess the first one is easy since everything I do is, in some way, for them.
I work hard. I earn a living. Not millions, but a solid income that provides food and shelter and vacation twice a year with the occasional weekend getaway.
I write because it's what I want to do with my life. I would love to make a living as a writer. As yet, I don't. Once I do, I'll quit my job. So, while writing is something I love, I treat it like work. It's not a hobby. It's not something I squeeze in between reruns and social engagements. I write. Period.
Reading is important to me as an individual and as a writer. I think we all need to read more. It gives me sanity. It makes me a better writer, and more importantly, a better man.
Alone time is key to mental survival. I drive myself to work and home every day. This is alone time. I often call my parents in the morning (okay every morning) to say hello but the drive home is mine. I listen to audio books or music or the sounds of the world. I drive a convertible and when the weather permits, driving with the top down is great therapy for me.
This is my daily routine. How do I find the time?
I wake up early, around five AM. I write for a couple of hours then I read. Phone calls in the car to mom and dad. I try not to work more hours than necessary. I'm not lazy, I just go to work and I work. I make every minute count (for the most part.) I take a lunch break every day. Often alone, sometimes with a friend. When solo, I read while I munch. I listen to a book in my car on the way home and have dinner with the family. I read as I digest. Later when the kids are asleep I make the sweet love to my wife (sometimes, I'm old) and sleep about six hours.
No, I don't watch TV. A little once in a while. Sometimes on the weekends, but I don't keep up with the Kartrashians. I don't watch the bachelor at the whorehouse, and I certainly don't watch news. Life is depressing enough
So, decide what matters. Make a list of what matters. Toss out everything that doesn't matter.
Get.
Shit.
Done.
Keep writing,
Adolfo
Saturday, July 13, 2019
Writing is the easy part
I mean it. The easiest part of writing anything, a book, a poem, a short story, a recipe, is the actual writing. All you're doing when you write is regurgitating observations and life experiences. You're peeing on the wall. The hard part comes after. Editing is the hard part. Revising is the hard part.
After you spend hours, days, weeks, months, years, whatever, writing your first draft, you have to go back and fix the whole thing. You get that feeling of re-reading a book too soon.
There are books I read once a year. There are books I've read once, loved intensely, and will never read again. I've never read a book, gotten to "The End" and turned it over and started it again. That would be madness. That's the madness of the second draft.
Of course, some may go right back at it and some might let it sit in a drawer or on a hard drive before wading back into the mud.
I like to go right back. If I wait too long, I lose interest and I'm on to the next shiny object. You may want to wait a while, let it marinate.
I am also a fan of the Hemingway way. Hemingway method? Style? Whatever. Start the day by reading and changing what you did before. Not the day before, EVERYTHING you've already written. Once your book is too long to all the way back, you go back a chapter or two. By they time you finish your first draft, it's pretty damn clean.
So, remember. Writing is easy. Returning to your vomit... not so easy.
Keep writing,
Adolfo
After you spend hours, days, weeks, months, years, whatever, writing your first draft, you have to go back and fix the whole thing. You get that feeling of re-reading a book too soon.
There are books I read once a year. There are books I've read once, loved intensely, and will never read again. I've never read a book, gotten to "The End" and turned it over and started it again. That would be madness. That's the madness of the second draft.
Of course, some may go right back at it and some might let it sit in a drawer or on a hard drive before wading back into the mud.
I like to go right back. If I wait too long, I lose interest and I'm on to the next shiny object. You may want to wait a while, let it marinate.
I am also a fan of the Hemingway way. Hemingway method? Style? Whatever. Start the day by reading and changing what you did before. Not the day before, EVERYTHING you've already written. Once your book is too long to all the way back, you go back a chapter or two. By they time you finish your first draft, it's pretty damn clean.
So, remember. Writing is easy. Returning to your vomit... not so easy.
Keep writing,
Adolfo
Friday, July 12, 2019
What Are You Reading?
What Are You Reading?
A) Nothing
B) I don't have time to read
C) I'm not much of a reader
D) Huh?
E) All of the above
I have news for you: you'll never make it as a writer.
I'm no authority on such matters since I am not a household name. I am known in my own home, but just barely so. I just believe we should all be willing to eat our own cooking.
But even if you're not a writer. Reading is amazing. It's guided imagination. You and I can watch a movie and see the same thing. But we can both read a book and have hours of discussion about what the writer was trying to say and what this or that meant. Imagination is just like any other muscle: use it or lose it. (I know the imagination is not a muscle. Work with me. I was being imaginative.)
So... just read it.
Thursday, July 11, 2019
The Hours
I can't sleep.
I don't mean today. I mean in general. I've always been an early riser. I remember whenever I slept over my cousin's house when we were kids, I woke up at the butt-crack of dawn and waited around impatiently until she woke up so we could go outside and play. Nothing has changed.
I usually wake up around five. This is a good time for me since there is silence in the house. It's the time I write, read, contemplate the mysteries of the universe... that kind of thing. I don't always get out of bed at five, but I am awake.
I've joined some online writers' groups lately and I'm struck with the realization that there are a lot of people out there who want to be recognized as writers. I'm not sure how many of them are actually writing. Talking about writing is rather interesting. Calling yourself a writer can be exciting and in some circles can get you laid. Writing on the other hand, is a lonely, arduous life. Not everyone can do it. If you're writing for recognition, you're wasting your time. Become a performance artist if you want recognition. Writers should write.
I'm aware that we live in a celebrity culture and that we all want to be seen and recognized. I know we all want to succeed. I get that. But the only way you'll succeed as a writer is by writing.
When I read posts by "writers" asking what they should name a character, I SMH and LOL. J/K, I do none of those things. But I never respond because that is not a person interested in writing, that is a person looking for attention. That is a person who wants to be known as a writer. Whether they write anything other than a Facebook post is of little consequence.
Please spellcheck your hate mail.
Keep it up,
Adolfo
I don't mean today. I mean in general. I've always been an early riser. I remember whenever I slept over my cousin's house when we were kids, I woke up at the butt-crack of dawn and waited around impatiently until she woke up so we could go outside and play. Nothing has changed.
I usually wake up around five. This is a good time for me since there is silence in the house. It's the time I write, read, contemplate the mysteries of the universe... that kind of thing. I don't always get out of bed at five, but I am awake.
I've joined some online writers' groups lately and I'm struck with the realization that there are a lot of people out there who want to be recognized as writers. I'm not sure how many of them are actually writing. Talking about writing is rather interesting. Calling yourself a writer can be exciting and in some circles can get you laid. Writing on the other hand, is a lonely, arduous life. Not everyone can do it. If you're writing for recognition, you're wasting your time. Become a performance artist if you want recognition. Writers should write.
I'm aware that we live in a celebrity culture and that we all want to be seen and recognized. I know we all want to succeed. I get that. But the only way you'll succeed as a writer is by writing.
When I read posts by "writers" asking what they should name a character, I SMH and LOL. J/K, I do none of those things. But I never respond because that is not a person interested in writing, that is a person looking for attention. That is a person who wants to be known as a writer. Whether they write anything other than a Facebook post is of little consequence.
Please spellcheck your hate mail.
Keep it up,
Adolfo
Wednesday, July 10, 2019
The Why
This isn't my first blog.
It's not my second.
It's my third.
Not three blog posts, three actual blogs!
I'm not including the aborted attempts. Three blogs. One about me. One about current events. This one... about damn time. It's about writing. I've been writing for over twenty years. Books, screenplays, short stories, poems, essays. Blogs! A lot of writing. A lot of words.
I guess I'm writing this blog because I recently decided to identify as a writer. Writing has been a private thing for me. No more. This is how my midlife crisis is manifesting. I already have a convertible. I don't have the patience to date women half my age. So, I write. And I will write about writing which is the worst, most pretentious writing there is.
There will also be some interesting stuff here, I hope. That, I suppose, is for you to decide.
I don't know what my plans for this blog are, but I will probably post poems or thoughts or... this is already boring me to tears.
Stay tuned. I hope to make this worth your while.
It's not my second.
It's my third.
Not three blog posts, three actual blogs!
I'm not including the aborted attempts. Three blogs. One about me. One about current events. This one... about damn time. It's about writing. I've been writing for over twenty years. Books, screenplays, short stories, poems, essays. Blogs! A lot of writing. A lot of words.
I guess I'm writing this blog because I recently decided to identify as a writer. Writing has been a private thing for me. No more. This is how my midlife crisis is manifesting. I already have a convertible. I don't have the patience to date women half my age. So, I write. And I will write about writing which is the worst, most pretentious writing there is.
There will also be some interesting stuff here, I hope. That, I suppose, is for you to decide.
I don't know what my plans for this blog are, but I will probably post poems or thoughts or... this is already boring me to tears.
Stay tuned. I hope to make this worth your while.
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