Third Book: Vegas, and the Aftermath

I tried to think creatively during my vacation. I mean, like I said last post, I even brought along the outline for my third book and a Steno pad to scribble my thoughts into. And from time to time, it worked. Like seeing a cloud that looked oddly like an Evangelion. Or simply staring off into the depths of the Grand Canyon’s west rim. But, as to work on my book? Well, it just didn’t happen.

I could make excuses all day or simply blame it on an addiction to my newly-discovered Plants vs. Zombies (seriously, I’m jonesing for a fix), but, really, it’s just that it’s hard to be creative in a stressful environment.

Yes, Vegas, the carefree, whatever happens blah blah town, for me was stressful. And awkward. Uncomfortable even. Infuriating at times. There were positives, but it made me understand now how so many writers and creators simply break under emotional pressure rather than from the frustrations of finishing a work itself. And while my vacation was meant to be a joyous romp through the Strip and its surroundings, it was anything but and the aftermath, wherein my idea trampoline suddenly rusted through, snapped in half and threw me to the ground, has been altogether cringe-inducing.

So where to go from here? Well, I certainly can’t give up now. As I said before, there’s no use crying over spilled milk. I mean, if I gave up every time someone or something failed to live up to my expectations or figuratively tossed me over a bridge, well, I’d be hunched in a corner sucking my thumb in a soiled diaper by now, wouldn’t I?


Instead, now by my lonesome, I’m marching onward. And writing. In my hand I hold the beginning of my third book, the one hastily scribbled just before I left, and today I’ve sat down and continued it.

The juices are flowing. Bitterly. With 1,000 pounds of pressure to squeeze every struggling drop. But they’re coming. And like the finger holding back the overflowing levee, it’s only a matter of time before the flood overtakes me.