It’s not a lot to me. I’ve gotten that far in a short period of time. It all felt really easy and I was doing fine. I think I wrote too much today and yesterday though. Today I hit about 16k words and yesterday about 12k. I’m pretty sure that’s a lot for two days. I also got a few personal things done so I am rather exhausted.
Dealing with some significant pain as well. I’ve always been able to find ways to manage my pain since I’ve not had access to Vicodin. I had a feeling the time would eventually come when OTC’s just weren’t enough. Last wednesday, I OD’d on OTC pain meds. It was accidental, I assure you. My average pain lingers at about 3. Wednesday night and into Thursday morning I was at a 10 almost constantly. It got so bad that I started hallucinating. I maxed Aleve, but kept taking more. I then switched to Ibuprofen which I never take. I took 4 to start on top of the Aleve and then i went from 8 to 10, even with that much in me. After that, I kept thinking I hadn’t taken any meds so I just kept taking more and more. At some point during the night, I also though it was a good idea to start taking my diphenhydramine. I’m not really sure how much of that I took, but it put me out.
I’m fine. Didn’t end up in a hospital or anything. Just had a really mad hangover the next day and I’m sure my liver was severely pissed at me. Thankfully, I rarely stress it so it seems to be working just fine. Only thing worrying me is that my average pain isn’t a 3 anymore. Now its closer to a 5 with suddenly spikes to 7. I’m not gonna lie. I’m worried.
I am still going to finish this series though regardless of what happens. Of course, if i suffer a brain aneurysm from these massive headaches then there isn’t much I can do to stop that. Hopefully I can finish though before something serious happens. I’d like to say this is just stress, but I know it’s not. The one good thing about all this? The dreams have been amazing.
It’s finished. A few slight oversights aside, it is ready for Amazon and BN.com. I kept getting feedback that my first book was quite long. Anyone who got through that work and felt that way will appreciate the fact that this one comes in at a whopping 278 pages so its much shorter. I would still recommend reading the first book though as this one picks up where the other left off. With the first book, I had to lay a lot of groundwork and with this one, all I had to do was simply touch on some of it as a sort of reminder. As a stand alone book, this one still has some good chops, but I think to really get into the characters, it will benefit most people to give Rumbling Heart a read as well.
All I really have left to do is type up a Synopsis and upload the work and it’s all done. I hope this book satisfies my loyal followers as it focuses on the same characters as the first book and continues to explore their lives. There are at least 2 major twists in this work. They are so big that they are pretty hard to miss…in fact, they may club you in the face. Be sure to check out the Facebook event as I will be giving away at least 2 copies of RB to those attending. Great thing about the event…you don’t even have to go anywhere or be somewhere at a specific time. All you have to do is click attend. Your support is greatly appreciated.
As I write, I’ve started to figure out a few things about the world and why nothing ever seems to change. The world isn’t real. I go out and I attend classes and I watch other people as they go about their day and I realized that what they all do seems almost pointless. I see people go out and drink and smoke and party and it seems to help them deal with what the world is, but I’ve never looked to those options in my life.
I feel like I’m reading the same book over and over again with slight editorially differences from edition to edition. The style changes a little, but it’s still the same old tired story. It makes me think about what is real and what is it that we make up to either make ourselves feel important or to make it seem like our lives have some sort of meaning. I spend 8 months writing and perfecting a book and it was supposed to be some monumental feat. It’s supposed to be some life changing event, but it wasn’t. I’m still just as meaningless and non essential as before, and I think I’m ok with it.
I will finish my planned works and just call it a day. Besides, the world isn’t real, right?
Maybe it’s just the feeling I have right now, but from what I have been thinking about the last few nights is this. I think I will write a few more books, those that have to do with my current characters, and then probably call it quits. Why some might ask, or based on my sales maybe just a handful of people will ask. The answer is simple. There isn’t anything left to write about.
I’ve a strange and often tortured life and for more than 90% of my years, it seems as if I were living for someone else and not myself. I kept telling myself that once I was able to write I book that I would want to read and enjoy that life would somehow suddenly change; like it would take on a whole new meaning and I could finally live for myself and no do all the things I am simply expected to do. Yet, here I am. My book is out and available and while a few people have felt strongly enough about it to see fit to purchase it, I can’t help but feel like nothing has changed at all. Here I am, still doing all the things I don’t want to do and feeling as if I am only here to service the needs of others. Sure, it’s easy to see that writing a book, in a sense, is the same thing, but I beg to differ. I wrote the book not for fame and fortune. I wrote it because I felt I had something to say. I had a story that I thought was amazing and sad and beautiful and terrible and so utterly consuming that i felt the need to put it all down, so that’s exactly what i did. I worked so hard on it that while some dreams of making a real living off of it did seep into my mind, I stopped thinking about that all together and instead focused on writing the best book I could write.
That being said, the story is far from over as the characters will go through changes and, as in real life, both tragedy and wonderment will come into play. Unfortunately, after all that is said and done and the story is out there for all to read, I think, based on my current feelings, that I will be done. I will in no way lax in my style of writing simply to get all this over with. That has not and will never be my intention. Once I give my characters a respectable send off, I will be done and that will be that.
I don’t even care about school or a job or living for that matter as most things I have been a part of in my life, in the end, never really mattered. I don’t have friends and I don’t expect to gain any and I am too old to go out looking for them anymore. Those I knew when I was young have grown and moved on and that’s great. I am glad they were able to make a life for themselves. I look at them now and I think to myself where in the grand scheme of things do I fit? Either I have the absolute worst timing ever, or I simply don’t belong anywhere. I’ve left towns and tried to restart my life in different places, but i began to wonder why things never seemed to work. Now I know why.
Now I know why people never cared much for my company and that’s fine. I know I am difficult and hard to get along with and I know it’s at least partially my fault that people have faded from my life, and I am ok with that. I never expected anyone to want to put up with me for very long and based on that, I guess I have forgiven everyone and, without words, given them an out. I cannot think of a single person in my life who really gave to craps about what I thought or what I felt or cared enough to put things aside for my benefit. It may sound greedy and it probably is, but I can’t help but think to myself just how many times in my life I’ve taken the fall for others and how many times I was left hanging all because someone wanted something or someone else. I cannot get past it and I know it’s my problem and not yours and so I will so what i feel is the right thing and just bow out.
I have 2, maybe 3 more books in me and I am working on them at this moment; feverishly finding the words so that I can give my creations a proper send off. Then after that, I am done and no one will be asked to deal with my crap anymore. I’m just done. I am tired of chasing dreams I cannot catch and I am tired of waiting for anyone to listen. I sit in a room on a floor, typing on a keyboard without a desk and that’s by my own choice, but one would have to think that in all that time that someone would have at least tried to intervene.
Being that I have never felt close to anyone, not even my family, I guess this is probably the way it should be. Till I am through with all this, I will keep recording my butterflies and wondering if there really ever was an Emily Martin. My heart will keep rumbling even though I don’t want it to, and with each beat, I know I will always feel a little pain. No one is there waiting for me, because all my life as the minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years rolled by, I never once saw anyone except myself staring back at me, and I’ve never liked what I saw. How presumptuous of me to think that anyone would see anything different.
Buy Rumbling Heart @ Barnes and Noble
Today, a dream that I’ve dreamed since I was young finally came to fruition. I have , on my own, written, edited, and released a book, completely of my own creation. While I admit I am not Hemingway when it comes to writing novels, I would like to think he would have looked over my book, gave it a good once over and said to me “That a decent start, kid. Keep writing.” Unfortunately, Ernest isn’t alive to give me such positive feedback, so I am having to look elsewhere for readers and honest opinions.
I know I’m not some amazing writer who is going to change the world. Hell, I may not even make you think twice about rereading my book once you have it in your possession, but I hope I can at least entertain you and stimulate your mind, if even for just a few nights while you make it through my novel. I’ve spent countless hours and many late nights working on the words and the text and the idea behind my work just so I can make it as perfect as I can just so I can release and look at it and tell myself that I did it. I really did it.
I cannot say how many times I’ve broken down in tears while writing and editing this book as many of the supposedly fictional scenes do have real life events intertwined in them, many of which I would rather forget, but for reasons I cannot understand, never seem to leave my thoughts.
I am sick and I know I am. That shouldn’t keep me from leaving a mark on this world though. I keep telling myself every single time I wake in the morning that I should give it at least one more go around, just one more try. Just one more try before I cash in my chips. Just one more try before I call off the search. Just one one more try before I hear my exit music begin to play.
I am putting a lot on the line here and I am done hiding behind a fake smile and false positive emotions. I hide it all from everyone, even my family. They see me and they think I am ok, when I know I am not. For all I know, maybe they know I’m not ok and that’s why they keep me around. I still cannot shake those events from December of 2009 and it haunts me every single day. It will always haunt me, but it will not define me. I want to leave a mark, a legacy before it’s all said and done with. With these characters I’ve created, I hope to do just that.
John, Olivia, Emily, The Chris’s, Donna, Stella, Paul, Audrey…they are all a part of me in ways many of you will never understand. While they all, within my work, define what it is to be human, they also show us a side which I wish we could all live up to. While we move through our daily routines and go to our jobs, raise our children, go to our schools, we all, if even for a short moment in time, wish we could be the best person we could possibly be. We all wish the person we were at our best would never leave. We all wish to be the greatest parents to our children. We all wish to be the children that we know would make our parents proud. We all wish to be the husbands and wives, girlfriends and boyfriends that our partners have always wanted. We all wish to be the best friends we could be, letting our friends know that they could come to us for anything and at anytime and never be judged. However, we all know that this isn’t how the world really works.
In the real world, we seem to casually wade through our lives, looking out only for ourselves and never looking back to see the people that we’ve stepped over to get to our final destination. While some of you read this, you all will surely say to yourself “Well, I’ve never done that…,” but sadly, we all have. We get angry over things that do not matter. We sweat the small stuff. We yell at our kids and our friends and our spouses. People lose their jobs and are forced out of school. Parent’s abandon their kids and children disappoint their parents. Our friends get into that car even though we know they’ve had to much to drink, and yes…sometimes our friends lose control of their car and destroy a family on New Year’s Eve.
It’s been said that we are the sum of all the people we’ve ever known in our lives and maybe that’s why I am still going. Maybe that’s why I’m still writing. Although I cannot remember many things from my childhood, there is still something pushing me to write and to speak and to talk about what I cannot recall. Maybe this was the way it was supposed to be. Maybe I was supposed to die when I was a child. Maybe I was supposed to die when my ex wife held that gun to my head, and maybe I was supposed to swallow all those pills in 2009 while all those voices steadily urged me to kill myself.
I release a book, and with it, I release myself. I release all those feelings that were supposed to have died within my trembling soul all those years ago. I know that this was what I was meant to do in this life. For so many years, I asked myself “What’s this life for?” Now I know. It was to think and to feel and to smile and to laugh and to hurt and to cry and in so many ways, I’ve already loved more than I could possibly love in an entire lifetime, but I’ve also died a thousand deaths.
Each night, just me and my keyboard, the pain bleeds out of my hands as I write. All of those long nights have finally produced something of value. And with no cheers and no fan fair, I present to the world my Rumbling Heart.
Here is the synopsis I came up with for my book. This is what will appear on both the Amazon and Barns and Noble listing. As soon as the purchase links are available, I will post them. Some of you may already notice the updated links to the blog. While I am getting things set, the book is not yet available, but will be in the next day or so. Enjoy.
Rumbling Heart Synopsis
After escaping the clutches of his abusive ex-wife, John finds himself living a rather dreary and reclusive life in Eureka, California. By choice, he works at a menial job where he gets paid very little, and barely makes ends meet. One day he comes home after quitting his job during an altercation with his boss to find a strange note taped to his door, instructing him to check his email. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he checks to find an email waiting for him from the international conglomerate known simply as The Company. The email offers him a chance to secure employment with one of the most employee friendly companies on earth so without delay, he replies to the email and provides The Company with all of his personal information. Within minutes, he is contacted by phone and an interview is setup. As he gets additional information about the company, he is told about all the benefits he will reap once he is employed. One such benefit is so bold and unique that is takes him completely by surprise and because of it, he is eventually introduced to an emotionally odd, yet adorably quirky woman named Anna who is also employed by The Company.
As their friendship progresses, John is forced to look inside himself and reexamine his life as he and Anna’s relationship begins to morph and change into something much more than he expected. Weary of getting close to anyone, John struggles with his past, but ultimately decides to try to open himself up to new things, but little does he know, his new companion is hiding something from him that will rock the foundation of their friendship and send him into a tailspin of emotion.
He also unexpectedly grows closer to the beautiful and intelligent Human Resources manager Emily, his first contact within the company, who appears to have only his best interests at heart. As he begins to trust the bold and confident Emily with more, he finds that she too may not be who she seems. Soon, John finds himself in a minefield of mystery and deceit and over time, he finds he must either deal with the gatekeepers of secrecy or devolve into lunacy as his past continues to haunt his thoughts and his life.
I watch the breakers as they approach the shore,
Their frothy texture bubbling up
The distance exposes the horizon
My hand in his, and I feel home again.
Exceeding vistas caress my view
We go walking between the trees
The cherry blossoms, aiding my demeanor
Stroll along and smile, beside me, he breathes
The bustling rush and the crowded streets
Remind me of things I’ve grow tired of
While my work keeps me traveling, on the go
I long for serenity, a peaceful scene
Still I find myself missing this place
I’ve moved on to another
Quiet nights, and I watch him sleep
I touch his hand, and thank him for coming
Cherry blossoms trickle down from the sky, and the grass is soft, lush, like a bed of down on a cool, spring day. I look skyward and speculate on the clouds before me, wondering what each one looks like. Trains and trollies, and teddy bears consume my being; the light, northern breeze kisses my exposed skin. My knees are pointed up and I feel as if I am being watched, in fact I know I am for I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She stares at me and wishes her wish of carefree days and endless nights, the pattern of bittersweet days having taken their toll. Her red hair sways out across her rosy lips as the wind plucks her lavish locks out from under her hand which attempts to hold their listless flight at bay. Her heart beats and rumbles, and her blue eyes glisten with sweet delight as she steps closer to me. Finally, I turn to her and our eyes meet, and startled shivers exert their force upon her shadowed visage. Her eyes show her grief and we both know I cannot stay here like this, relaxing in her silhouette for long. Four days and six hours have passed, and every waking moment we have spent together, and every moment in slumber she has been in my arms. I’ve read her mind, her thoughts melancholic, and I know her heart for she has told me of her incorrigible desire to keep me with her. We hold each other’s gaze as we listen to sounds of children at play, our unborn child still just a dream.
The breeze picks up and she sits down beside me to show me her cruel and lovely intentions. Her theft, of such brilliant and tireless devotion, was only the beginning of our unforeseen affinity, and the loss of such a strong defense was not bitter, but a welcome circumstance. Her company was not granted, but more a luxury, a state of which much due diligence had been paid. As I turn my eyes back toward the heavens, she joins me for the critical view, and I take a breath that precludes all fallacy of reason.
Unrealistic transformation, hidden revolver
Bursting bulbs, the lights, the tone will be fine
Cheers or jeers, I don’t care which
Collision into hindrance happens regardless
I look over to the mirror, dim luminescent glow
The colors I wear, dark and dazzling
I see my hair draping down and consider it fine
The rings on my fingers click against the crackling hiss deity
I look at the door, listening, that relentless vociferate
Repetitious existence, hundreds a year, yet still neurotic
Welcome thy dead souls, intrude my horizon
It’s what they expect so I exhale, and cry again
Enervating and worrisome, and loosening my grasp
The phantasmic ritual recovers memory, inception manifestation
I walk to the door and carry my affliction
They will all get to see what they paid for
I cannot write the way I want to at this point in time. I can’t sleep right and when I do it’s for minimal 10 minute intervals. I am awake and asleep at the same time and i cannot break this vicious cycle of restlessness. I am inspired and demotivated, I am dreaming during my waking hours and the stories never stop writing themselves. They unravel and distort, the truth is cycling through me like a virus on steroids. When my eyes are closed I can feel a presence, but I don’t know who it is. I hear a merry go round, but it only goes around in a hellish cauterizing and illuminating feverishness that binds my thoughts together with super glue. I have no feelings yet i feel it all, the weight of an audacious animal biting at my strength. I’m interconnected and losing my signal, I am running in circles without a set number of degrees as I travel in time that has suddenly stopped. I’ve just about had it and the taste of pomegranate sticks to my palette, these sleeping pills leave me in a daze. The dreams will keep coming so I better keep running, my pen attached to my finger tips is dripping of ink and it never quits. So write on I must and face the distrust of the human condition despite premonition. This can’t be real.