Because I Have Insomnia/Writer's Block

It's almost a quarter after 2 on a Sunday night and I can't sleep.

I'm trying to respark my creative fires but life has a funny way of keeping a man's goals from happening sometimes.

In my sleep deprived frustration I found this just now.

I've been battling writer's block for roughly 208 days, 5 hours, 44 minutes (based on the last update on any of my "work").

Maybe pointing out such things is an exercise in futility and only fueling my "issues" or maybe its just the result of too much stress and too little sleep/relaxation finally getting to this fella.

All I know for certain is that not being able to write anything beyond the occasional blog (like this one here) is far from the satisfying writing "career" I'm hoping to once obtain.

But it might make for good reading because after all this is a blog that is as much about my setbacks as it is about my successes as I hunt that elusive thing known as my version of the American Dream.

Here's hoping for a brighter tomorrow.

The Gathering Storm by Robert Jordan/Brandon Sanderson

An old friend pointed me towards Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series a few years back and I finally picked up Eye of the World early in 2008.

I was hooked immediately and tore through the 11 main books, the prequel and the encyclopedia over 2008 and early 2009.

I didn't know it at the time but Mr. Jordan had died a few months before I started reading his books. His death created a moderate delay in getting the 12th and final book of the series (13th if you count the prequel) as they looked for a writer to finish the series. They found that writer in Brandon Sanderson but the search would not be the last delay.

As the novel was written it became apparent that one book wouldn't be enough to finish this epic series off so the decision was made to split the book into a trilogy. Admittedly the news irked me when I first heard it as I was eager to find how this series was going to wrap up. Many hours had been invested in reading Jordan's story and although I would be upset for it to be over, the anticipation of how it would end was (and is killing me).

But I digress, I finished this book in the early hours of Sunday morning while trying to get sleepy enough to return to bed after the baby's early morning feeding.

In my opinion the change of authors did nothing to the quality of the series and in fact this is better than at least one of the books penned by Jordan himself.

The ending came at a sensible point in the story and did its job of making me long for the next installment.

If you enjoy Fantasy novels I highly recommend this series, of course I'm a tad biased since it was this series that sparked my desire to write an epic fantasy of my own.

Happy Turkey Day

Since I won't have time tomorrow nor have I written anything new the best thing I have to do is wish any who happen upon this a Happy Thanksgiving.

Growing up I was never a fan of the large family get-together holidays but they mean much more to me now.

So gorge yourself on some turkey and all the fixings, unbuckle your belt, kick back in your favorite chair and watch some football/nap.

I know I will.

Other than Insomnia, What Else Has Kept Me Away from Writing?

My last post was one spent venting about something very much out of my hands, my chronic insomnia (note the time this is being posted).

This morning I'm going to touch on something that while very much within my control has become the latest culprit to suck up my writing time: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2.

After months of pleading with me a good friend convinced me to sign up for Xbox Live (something I'd resisted for over a year for a variety of reasons) and once MW2 hit store shelves last Tuesday I became a bit of an addict.

Granted I'm not playing every waking moment and it's given me something "constructive" to do with these early morning, too tired to write hours but I do need to keep an eye on my gaming hours. Once my sleep levels out and I can think coherently again I'll definately have to cut back on the games and buckle down.

For now though I'm thoroughly enjoying the gunning down of (and getting gunned down by) total strangers and real life friends alike.

For those of you who read this that have also been bitten by the COD:MW2 bug (or enjoy playing other games) send me an invite or a friend request on Xbox Live. I'm always looking for new people to play against online since my duties as a husband and father have 86ed my real-life social life.

My gamertag is QuasiShad and I'll be looking forward to facing off with you.

Oh and the wife would have me strung up by my toenails if I didn't drop the biggest news of our lives here too. We found out this week that, provided the little booger doesn't decide he wants out sooner, they are going to do the C-section on the 1st of December.

Let the countdown begin!

Insomnia vs Creativity

A little known fact outside of my inner circle is that I frequently (read: almost nightly) have a really difficult time falling asleep.

The list of remedies is endless: excercise more, drink a glass of warm milk, try a small amount of alcohol, take a sleeping pill, don't drink soda/coffee after mid-afternoon, etc, etc.

I've tried most of the above (the ones I've avoided have namely been the ones involving ingesting anything) and have come to one conclusion.

I am naturally a night owl and given the chance my internal clock will shift to a "awake all night, into bed at 9 a.m." schedule.

The problem this creates is two fold, 1) my real job requires that I arrive in the hours immediately prior to the time when I'd most like to go to bed and 2) being up late and rising early to work every day of the week leads to an eventual zombie like stupor. Now for some the undead trance may be preferable but when you spend a good deal of your down time trying to be creative being half asleep (at least in my experience) is NOT a helpful state of mind.

Maybe this is just the mildly delusion ramblings of a sleep deprived mind but I'm really struggling these last few weeks to string together any sort of sentence that envolves story telling.

Writing like this comes fairly easy but attempting to craft a story has been all but impossible of late.

Which is why I've not updated this much in the last month because I feel guilty blogging when my work is being neglected.

Good night to all you sleepers out there, I'll be burning the midnight oil a touch longer. With luck maybe I'll be able to turn that flashing line on my screen into some prose before turning in.

Recommended Reading: Pursuit of Honor by Vince Flynn

Continuing the trend I set with Robert B. Parker's Spenser series (wherein I read the 34th book first) is the 9th book in the Mitch Rapp series by Vince Flynn (and the first I've read).

I'm not quite finished with it but at a hair past the 3/4 mark I'm going to go out on a limb and make it part of my Recommended Reading list.

It reminds me a great deal of the early Jack Ryan novels by Tom Clancy, you know the ones before he started to dive way too deep into technical explanations (was I alone in being mildly vexed by the page after page devoted to the atomic detonation in Sum of All Fears?) and focused more on the "kick-assed-ness" of the Jack Ryan character. Not that I'm knocking Clancy's books, they were far and away my favorite thrillers growing up and maybe that's why I'm enjoying this book so much.

Mitch Rapp, Flynn's main character, reminds me so much of Ryan but is different enough to stand alone as one of the best espionage/thriller protagonists of all time.

If you like this genre, I can almost guarantee you'll enjoy this book.

Because I'm In a Sharing Mood

For more than a good portion of this year I've been toiling on a Private Investigator novel along the lines of Chandler's Marlowe or Parker's Spencer (forgive me for being hard on myself but I'm nowhere near their levels but I try to channel their spirit when writing this story).

Today I figured I'd share the first chapter of my work, in what is probably the 12th draft of the opening pages of the first in a series with the character. Honestly the main character is presently one of my top two favorite creations and the female lead(s) are almost as close to my heart as he is.

You'll only meet the MC (and two thugs) here but I think its one of my better opening chapters in spite of this fact. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

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As far as I’m concerned once you’ve been stuffed in the trunk of one car you’ve been stuffed in them all. I would know; I’ve been shoved into more than my fair share of them in my lifetime. It goes with the territory I guess, I work in a profession that requires the asking of questions that some people don’t want asked. Ask the wrong person the wrong question or have the wrong person find out that you’ve been asking the “unaskable” and it’s in the trunk with you. If you’re really lucky there might just be a beating thrown in for good measure.
This particular trunk was made even more uncomfortable by the fact that the thugs hadn’t even had the decency to empty it before hand and I’d spent much of my visit with a tire iron jammed in the crack of my ass and a jack in the ribs. Given my experience being transported around in such a manner I’d love to say I’d developed a feel for how much time passes while within but sadly I haven’t. I might have been in there for thirty minutes or maybe it was a few hours. All I knew for certain was that my ass and side were both screaming at me and my legs were starting to cramp. Admittedly I was grateful when the car came to a halt and my traveling companions opened the trunk.

Sometime after they had gotten the drop on me they had wrapped my head in a hood yet in spite of this fact I was immediately aware upon the opening of the trunk that we were at the lake. The wind was coming out of the north and bringing with it a bitingly cold edge. It was cold enough that I briefly regretted not having my overcoat but considering the fact that the two fine gentlemen dragging me out of the trunk were intent on my demise I probably shouldn’t have been concerned with catching my death of cold. I took a quick inventory of my pains and decided that as annoying as the cramps in my legs and back were the golf ball sized knot on the back of my head stood the most chance of being serious. As for what raised it, I’d have put money on a good old fashioned blackjack but there was always possibility of the equally classic pistol whip as well.

As they started to herd me down the pier I briefly entertained the thought of working the cramps out of my legs, toying with the idea of spending my last moments in relative comfort but with my arms cuffed behind me it wasn’t like I could have massaged my calves. I decided then that dying comfortably wasn’t everything; not dying at all would be preferable. Besides even if I could work out the charlie-horses I’d still have been left with the burning sensations of the damn scars on my arms not to mention the Cadillac sized lump on my head. There I was being led to what would surely be my demise and I was worried about cramps and itchy scars. The things that pass through your head when you are facing certain death always did amuse me. At that point I was glad my face was covered by the damn burlap bag, I was certain that these thugs would have smashed in my teeth had they been able to take one look at the shit eating grin splitting my face.

Once we reached what was no doubt the end of the pier they turned me around and forced me to my knees. Having been here a million times before I knew what was coming beforehand but foresight didn’t unbind my hands, so to my utter lack of surprise one of my captors unloaded on me. I’m not sure if it was a fist coupled with brass knuckles or possibly my second pistol whipping of the evening, regardless pain flared white hot in my head as stars danced across my vision. My mouth and chin were bathed in blood that felt boiling in comparison to the cold air and I was certain that my nose had just been spread across my face. “Ah, watch it numb-nuts. You’ll ruin my movie star good looks doing shit like that.” I said while spitting blood into the inside of the bag. Predictably I was punched, no doubt an unassisted punch this time, in my face and kicked in the gut for my trouble. I collapsed in a heap, struggling to drag in air and fighting the urge to fill my hood with the half digested remains of the meal I’d had at Vic’s a few hours back. “Damn…boys…..you play…..you play soccer? Damn….fine….kicks the….there.” I managed to spit out before the two of them began to fire kick after kick into my chest and gut.

“Shut it wise ass,” said Thug Number One, “we don’t want to hear none of your shit.”

“Yeah, shut it.” eloquently added Thug Two in stereotypical yet familiar gravelly street tough tones. This brought laughter, pained laughter but laughter none-the-less from me and without a chance to explain what I found funny I was the recipient of a new wave of kicks.

“You ask too many questions laughing man. The boss, he really don’t like people snooping around, asking questions they have no business knowing the answers to. Nobody teach you to mind your business huh Mr. Madden? Too bad for you they didn’t, cause now we get to teach you this lesson. We’re pretty good teachers too, people we teach learn real quick.”

I really should know better but as I drew myself back to a kneeling position I said, “Yeah, you two are a regular couple of street professors.”

Again I was treated to a ballet of dancing lights and colors when I was pistol whipped upside the head and fell once more to the pier. This time the blow was hard enough that the sounds of the water slapping the underside of the pier became muffled as if I was hearing them from miles away and with cotton in my ears. I realized then that I was sliding ever closer to losing consciousness and that meant I was in serious danger of losing my life as well. If I passed out I’d have no chance of getting through this alive so I began to focus on simply not giving into the desperate need to sleep. The only other clear thought I had was amusement at the fact that when I took this case I was certain that I’d finally landed a job that would break the monotony of my usual work.