Why I Stopped Writing
What was missing and how I found it again…
In 2023, I wrote easily over 100k words, producing nearly 35 episodes of Just Right, my neo-noir serial. I cranked out tons of other stories and articles, drafting and planning a slew of serialized fiction tales and working on a complete rewrite of the first mystery novel in a series I have planned while also writing the fourth novel in the series. If that wasn’t bad enough, I started rebooting on my website a 150-episode serial I wrote with friends back in 2010–12, called Dorothy: Locked & Loaded.
I thought I could do it all, and I won’t say that I still can’t. The ideas are there, and I won’t deny them. All those words, stories, and characters are in my head, waiting for their turn, and I don’t want to deny them. But I did for a minute — well, for the last seven months. I hit a wall, but it wasn’t a wall of energy or a wall of ideas or a wall based on finding a new hobby. This unloved ukulele can attest to that. It was something different.
In the middle of trying to rework my modern retelling of Alice in Wonderland, called In Case of Alice, Break Glass, I hit the wall of expectations.
In Case of Alice, Break Glass
I don’t know if that’s the right way to put that, but even the other day, as I dabbled in a serial that I wanted to write over a year ago — just a few simple episodes- I immediately realized what my blocker was. Expectations. Rules. Being perfect. Writing the best story possible instead of just writing the fucking story.
I laugh at myself now, but there’s been so much out there in social media about how to write, what to write, algorithms on social media that promote content a certain way (just like here on Medium), and the impetus to write daily and produce “content.” There are so many writers who write about writing — it seems stupid even to write that sentence. So many authors (especially on Medium) write about the best way to write, the best things to write about, what you should and shouldn’t write about, writing routines, etc. And then there’s publishing. When to publish, what to publish, how to get your book published, what kinds of books get published, how to find an agent, how to market your indy book, navigate KDP, etc.
Holy fuck, but the writing “industry” is destroying writing, or at least it’s been destroying mine. And I know that I let this happen. I know. I get it. I listened. I thought, “Listen to these people who‘ve published or have 10k followers on Twitter” or whatever. I listened and thought I needed to do more, and do everything and do it all the time. And eventually, I got to the point where I just had to say, “I’m taking a fucking break.”
And so I did for most of the last eight months. Nothing. Cold turkey. I played my Xbox, watched movies and just kicked around, letting all that self-inflicted pressure drain away.
The other day, I sat down, trying to get back into a little serial I was going to write for Halloween, called “Sip, Swallow & Scream,” a Sesame Swallow mini-mystery, and it hit me again — the need to be perfect, to get it right the first time. I just shook my head and walked away, but it wasn’t until a few days later that it came to me. I knew what the problem was.
Dorothy Locked and Loaded
Have you read Dorothy: Locked & Loaded at all? How about Just Right, which was published on Medium in 2023? The latter came to more than 100k words. I’ve written tons of other little stories and tales and even erotica on this site and Substack, and just like I did with the serials I mentioned above, literally hundreds of thousands of words, I just sat down and wrote. And I didn’t worry at all. I just started typing and let it flow.
I look at those 100k words in the 35 episodes of Just Right, and most of that was written with no real plan. I wrote most of those episodes in the moment, by the seat of my pants, taking maybe two hours to deliver 3k words to move the story along. Is it a masterpiece? I don’t know. Is it? Does it matter?
Just Right
Because here’s the thing — even great writers write duds. And nobody writers write little miracles, novels that sing to you, stories that twist and turn and make you smile from ear to ear and cry when they’re done. The most famous writers publish novels you end up hating, and indy writers deliver little gems you will never forget.
So, what does that mean? It means that I need to start writing again. Just let it all hang out. Let the words flow. Tell the story. All the stories. The stories doesn’t have to be perfect, but not getting it out there means no one will ever love…or hate them.
Sesame Swallow
Are we ready? Let’s do this.