If She Be Worthy

 

“Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor”

--inscription on Mjolnir (or Jonathan, if you believe Paul Rudd)

Okay then. It’s been over a week since I announced my year-long challenge to myself to write a paranormal romance series (eight books) in a year. In order, not hopping around piecemeal like I have been. Since the challenge’s inception (September 20) to today (October 1) my progress has been…

Pretty much zilch.

I think I maybe looked at the typed-up beginning of Book #1 once. Did some minor spot edits. That was it. The side project, on the other hand, has been chugging along at a steady pace. That one’s wrapping up, though, and may be finished in another two weeks if I really put my mind to it.

That’s the thing. Had I “really put my mind to it” two-three years ago, when I first decided to write the series, it would be done, out on the market and (hopefully) selling by now, and maybe I’d have the money to re-floor the bathroom and not have to worry about possibly needing to pay for updated eyeglasses in November. Or a new couch, after the old one shoved out a nail that caught me in the leg one night. Trips to the emergency room for stitches and a tetanus shot ain’t cheap.

So, in addition to wanting to tell the story, I’m heavy financially motivated to get this written and out. I’ve got the overall story arc, general plots and characters for all eight books. I know how the story begins and ends. I’ve even got a handful of standalone sequels waiting in the wings with bated pages. All I have to do is write the thing.

So why can’t I?

I’ve tried. Several times. Book #3 is done. That one was easy. That one also wasn’t supposed to exist, but I just loved the characters. I started Book #1. It stalled. I jumped to Book #2. Most of that’s written, but in longhand. I went to type it up and it stalled. Book #4 ran into plot and character problems and will need to be revamped and re-started. Book #7 was going great guns for a while but…yeah.

I put it aside while I focused on the side project, which gave me no trouble at all. Maybe because it had no sex scenes in it. I have trouble writing sex scenes and tend to skip them in first draft. But sooner or later they have to be written, because that’s really what sells the books. Maybe I shouldn’t be writing erotic romance. These days I don’t seem to want to write anything.

What did I do over the past week? Not much. I had a paid assignment that needed to get out. I had plenty of time to do that too. I’d have had it done early if I hadn’t blown off several hours a day playing video games. That’s another problem that’s cropped up over the years. I sit down at the laptop to write or to work and instead hop over to a game site and start playing. Or hang out on YouTube and watch videos. Or get up and watch TV. Or take a nap. It used to be just to avoid writing, but now the procrastination is encroaching on the paid work, and that’s the part that scares me. If I lose this job without some kind of backup, I’m going to be in deep doodoo.

It’s not lack of time, or a dearth of ideas, or even a flooded market. I know the series has a guaranteed home waiting for it. Not to mention there’s always self-publishing, so deadline pressures are non-existent. So is rejection, for that matter.

And yet, something’s keeping me from simply sitting down and writing, or working, and it’s getting stronger. It kept me from writing this blog for three days. It had me playing games until midnight last night. It appears to be triggered by sitting at the laptop because I have no trouble writing longhand. Unfortunately everything’s digital now, so the laptop’s a necessary evil. So is WiFi, which is where YouTube, the games, and all the other pretty shiny distracting things are. I used to be limited in WiFi access by the library’s hours, but Covid shut everything down and forced me to get home WiFi so I could keep getting work and keep getting paid. Thanks for nothing, pandemic.

I’ve already figured out the general procrastination is just a symptom of an underlying problem. Something lurking in my subconscious hears me proclaim I’m going to do something in league with my lifelong dreams, like write a book or lose weight or even mow the lawn and it says, “Oh no you ain’t,” and throws the urge to do literally anything else in my way. Anything that will waste time better spent being productive, that is. And more often than not, I go for it. I abandon the road to success in favor of the easy path of work avoidance. Three to eight to sometimes ten hours later I get up, berate myself and call it a day. Another wasted day.

Having a dream is commendable. But it doesn’t happen on its own. You have to make it happen. You need to do whatever it takes to achieve the goals that will make your dream come true. If you don’t, if all you do is talk and then instead of working go play games or watch TV or something equally time-sucking, maybe you should reassess your dreams. It may turn out you want something else, something you will be willing to work for.

Or it could be a lack of confidence. Maybe you don’t think you deserve a life of success and financial freedom. You may have been told that by others or simply told it to yourself, often enough that you come to believe it. Especially if you’ve got your heart set on a non-traditional vocation, like something in the arts. Skill can take you only so far; the rest relies on luck and talent. Have you truly got what it takes? Are you truly worthy of your dreams?

The only way to find that out is if you take your shot. Tell those voices, real and inner, to go take a flying leap and then get to work. The games can wait. You can’t. Every day that passes is another day lost forever, and their number is always dwindling.

It won’t be easy. That inner voice especially can be malicious. You’ll need to work extra hard to shut that fucker up. There are plenty of tricks and tips for avoiding the procrastination traps your subconscious will try to set for you. Here’s where the Internet actually proves its worth: a Google search will help you find a ton of them and you can experiment until you find the one(s) that work for you. As long as you don’t use researching procrastination and its causes and cures as an excuse to procrastinate. That’s obviously counterproductive.

Bottom line, it’s action that ultimately wins the day. You may need to work on yourself before you find you can work on hitting your goals. Prove to yourself that you’re worthy of the life that you imagine.

Which is why I’m altering the goals of the challenge a bit. I’m still going to work on the series, but writing it for publication (and money) is no longer the end I’m aiming for. I’ll be doing this to try to figure out what’s been holding me back all these years, so I can finally deal with it and stop being such an underachiever. Show myself, if no one else, that I am indeed worthy to wield this talent I’ve been given, and that I can reap monetary benefits from it. Will I succeed? Haven’t a clue. We’ll know by next September.

Here’s a trick to get us both started. My first two laptops came with games on the hard drive and no way to remove or block them, so I was pretty much up the creek. This latest laptop doesn’t, but the Internet does, and I’ve now got 24/7 Internet access. That’s easy enough to get around, though: just unplug the WiFi. Problem solved. The writing and the work files are on the hard drive and unaffected. When I do need Internet while I’m working (for email and fact-checking) I go to YouTube or Spotify and run background music, which ties up the system and keeps me from getting bored with work and jumping over to the games. If I need to fact check, I write myself a note and come back to it when I’m done, then shut off the laptop before I can get distracted by anything else. Then go write longhand. Or read a book. Or get out of the house and take a walk. Staying healthy gives you more energy and lessens the negativity that leads to procrastination. Two birds, one stone. Happy writing!

 

You Snooze, You Lose

 

I’m a slow writer. I admit it. Procrastination’s only part of the problem. Even when I’m hot on something, can’t wait to get to the keyboard, I still have problems getting the words down, even when I’m on a streak. I’ll have a good day or two, then go blank for weeks at a stretch. I’m currently writing an eight-book series all at once because it’s the only way I can guarantee the books will come out on a regular schedule. I’m not even going to market the first one until I’ve got at least the first five completed in draft form. Even that may not be good enough. My subconscious has a nasty habit of throwing blocks in my way at the worst possible time. Better go back to the original plan and draft all eight of them first.

Back in the ancient days of BI (Before Internet) this never used to be a problem. People expected writers to take a year, even two, between books. The audience was willing to wait. No longer. The Internet has spoiled us. A couple of clicks and you’ve got books, movies, information, porn, anything you could ask for right in front of you, instantly. We’re not willing to wait any more. We want what we want when we want it, and we want it right freakin’ NOW. And if you can’t produce fast enough to supply that impatient demand, your audience will desert you, maybe never to return. There are plenty of other books in the electronic sea, from writers willing and able to churn out a story a month. Or more.

I am in awe of those writers, because I’ll probably never be among their number. I’m just not fast enough for current market conditions. Even giving up on housework didn’t increase my production. I’ve often wondered who does the laundry and cooks the meals in those writers’ households. Or, for those writing erotic romance, when they find time to do “research.”

The moral of the story is, not being fast can cost you your customers. And sometimes even more than that, as I was reminded recently.

Years upon years ago, maybe the ‘90s, maybe early 2000s, I toyed with the idea of writing horror novels. Stephen King wasn’t writing the type of books that had made him famous any more. If someone could slip into that vacated niche, they might do pretty well. I had a couple of plots in mind, including one inspired by the King himself. Back in the day he wrote two related novels, published almost back to back, Desperation and The Regulators. Different stories, but the same cast…sort of. The characters’ names were the same, but the roles they played varied from one book to the other. A bad guy in one was a good guy in the other, a child had become an adult, things like that. Like a couple of parallel universes. And what, I thought, might happen if the universes intersected, and those characters, the same only different, ran into each other?

Having grown up as a science fiction fan, I had no problems with the concept of infinite “what if” worlds. Or of characters meeting their counterparts. Remember the “Mirror, Mirror” episode of Star Trek? Spock with the beard? Oh yeah. Ahem. I came up with a plot about a parallel universe that opened up into ours, allowing characters to pass back and forth, and the hijinks that ensued.

It came out pretty good, in my humble opinion. The main character, a cop, was alive in our world but had committed suicide in the other. There was a woman who had no counterpart in any other universe. There was a bad guy—oh, the bad guy. He was male in the other world, but female in ours. The two of them met. And hooked up. Yes, exactly how you’re thinking.

I thought that was one hell of a daring concept, for its time. They’re the same person, just different bodies. Different genders. Is it love? Incest? Masturbation? Or the ultimate in narcissism? I couldn’t recall ever reading anything like that before, not even in science fiction. Maybe it happened in Star Trek fanfic. I have no doubt Captain Kirk would have gleefully banged his female other self, and vice versa. Kirk was always something of a slut.

It’s all hypothetical, because while I started the book, I never finished it. I suspect my subconscious knew it was beyond my then-skills. Plus I started having trouble recalling which versions of the characters had done what where and when. This was a book for a plotter to writer, and I’m an irredeemable pantser. Probably the reason I abandon a lot of ideas. Too much trouble figuring out what happens next.

So the book never got written, and I let the concept sit. It probably wouldn’t have gotten published anyway, not back then. Maybe not now. Depends on the execution, and the author. I am not now, have never been, and never will be Stephen King.

Skip ahead to earlier this year. Disney starts a streaming service and creates programs featuring its Marvel Comics properties. One of these shows is Loki, from the Thor franchise. Due to events in Avengers: Endgame, Loki has effed up the time stream. He’s now charged with setting things right. Over the course of the show he meets parallel universe versions of himself. One of them is a woman. They hook up.

Those sounds you hear are me screaming “Oh shit!” and kicking myself in the ass. Because I didn’t write that book, and now I never can. Because anybody reading it will immediately think, “She ripped that off from the Marvel show.” No, I didn’t. I had that idea decades ago, but I never wrote or published it, so there’s no way I can prove it. That’s the price a writer pays for not striking while the iron is hot. Now somebody else gets to be praised for being daring and original, and I’m relegated to an also-ran’s parallel universe.

Somewhere out there, some Trekkie fanfic writer may also be screaming and kicking herself. I hear you, honey. Loud and clear.

The lesson I’m taking from this is to speed up my production, pronto. I have what I feel is a marketable concept for my series, with characters, story twists and ideas I believe in. Now I just have to get it done and out there. Because somewhere in the multiverse some other writer could have those same ideas. Someone who’s never heard of me and has no clue I even exist, but who’s faster at writing than I am.

Thank you, Disney. You just gave me the kick I needed. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have a lot of writing to do.

Are We There Yet?

Yes, I’m still here, more or less. And still writing. You’d think with Covid keeping us homebound for the last year or so, I would have had plenty of time to work on that series I talked about—what, maybe ten years back or something? Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but when you write as slowly as I do it can feel like that sometimes. Sooner or later, however, things get done. Maybe.

So why isn’t my series finished yet?

This next part’s going to contain a lot of excuses, so I’ll do you a favor and mark when it’s over. When you get bored, jump down to the bolded bit. I won’t mind.

To recap: I needed to pay for a new air conditioner, so I decided to write a romance series about a family of Texas cowboys who double as vampire slayers. It’s a closed series, meaning the collected books tell a single long story, with individual books being the “chapters.” I actually plotted for once and decided I’d need eight books in all: seven romances and the big wrapup. Got my characters, got my plot, got to work and whipped out a book in (for me) record time.

Unfortunately, it was Book #3. Yes, I know. Most people start with Book #1. And I would have, but I really liked the characters in Book #3, and the plot took off and I couldn’t wait to work on it every day, and next thing you know I’ve got a finished draft. Yay!

And almost immediately ran head on into a writer’s block.

Now, I’m a slow writer to start with. There are writers out there who can do 5000 or more words a day, day after day, week after week. They’re the ones you’ve heard of because they publish a book per month. Plus sidebar stories. And they still have time left over to chat with people on Twitter. My hat is off to them, because I will never be among their number. I’m lucky if I can hit 1000 words in a day. Skipping housework doesn’t help me, either, because I do that anyway.

I started Book #1. Hit a snag and couldn’t go on. Started Book #2. Made good progress—I liked the characters, the plot was shaping up, two side characters did something that even I wasn’t expecting—

Then I got to the sex scene. Stopped me dead. I tried going back to Book #1. Nope, no luck there. I wrote random scenes from further up the plotline. Started Book #4, realized it wasn’t working, let that one peter out. Then Covid hit and I had to get home WiFi because the library shut down and I needed Internet access to download files for my freelance job. With everything closed and home WiFi, I didn’t even need to leave the house.

So I…didn’t write. I watched a lot of videos on YouTube. I watched TV. I took naps. My off-and-on video game addiction flared up with a serious vengeance. Looking back, I was probably depressed. Or overwhelmed by the notion of coordinating an eight-book opus and making sure all the plot threads worked. Or lazy. It’s often hard to tell. Procrastination is a problem I’ve wrestled with for years.

Okay, enough of this shit. HERE ENDETH THE WHINING.

The good news: after almost a full year of farting around, I’m back on track again. I started writing longhand and lo and behold, it’s working out. Probably because a sheet of lined notebook paper offers way fewer distractions than the Internet. The female lead started coming to life, and just this morning I decided the male lead looks like Gerald McRaney, a fave of mine from the ‘80s. He’s a werewolf in a cowboy hat with a moustache and a receding hairline. You got a problem with that?

Pity this is Book #7. The rest are all still stuck.

Well, too bad. I’m writing, and that’s all that counts. I’ll worry about the others when this one is done. If I have to write the entire series out of order, that’s the way it’s gonna be. Because that’s how I’ve decided to handle this: I’m going to write the entire series at the same time, and not even think about marketing Book #1 until I’ve got at least six of the others finished in draft form. It’s the only way I’ll be able to guarantee I can release a book a month. Disney/Marvel can afford to let a year or two pass between movies. That doesn’t work for ebook publishing. When you’re doing a series, the faster chapters come out, the better. Nobody wants to wait for anything anymore.

Don’t worry. I already know how the story ends. That won’t be a problem. The problem is my bad case of sequelitis. A throwaway character from Book #3 took on a life of her own; she’s got a trilogy lined up as soon as I finish the series. Then the main characters from Book #3 come back for a reprise. Or two. I didn’t realize until recently his mother was a literal witch. And so it goes…

 

Not So Simple Math

(Note: I meant to post this yesterday. There will be an update at the end.)

The other week, while browsing the Reference section at the local Barnes and Noble, I came across a tome entitled Write a Book in a Month. I flipped through it briefly and put it back. I already know how to write a book in a month. An e-book, yeah, those only run about 30K-50K words on average, but it’s labeled a book so it counts.

Besides, I’m betting the book I put back relies heavily on the plotting aspects. If you spend the first two weeks thoroughly developing your characters and plotting out your story, then all you have to do for the second two weeks is write. Everything’s already been taken care of.

Unfortunately, I’m a pantser. Plotting doesn’t always work for me. I’ll start a story with no idea what’s going to happen or who the characters are. I fill all that in as I go. Finding it out is what makes writing fun, as well as a pain in the ass.

Whichever plan you use, there’s a mathematical formula for writing a book in a month. 1000w X 30d = 30,000b. One thousand words a day written every day for thirty days equals a complete 30,000-word story. That amounts to a book, if you stretch the definition a bit. Your book will be longer or shorter if you write more or less per day, but 1000 words makes a good standard. It only takes about an hour or two, depending on how fast you type. It helps if you know what you want to write, but that’s a pantser problem.

In theory, it should work. I’m sure it does work, for most people. The reason it doesn’t work for me is because I don’t do it. I screw off. I procrastinate. Life keeps throwing distractions at me. I sit down to type and the words dry up. I have to stop and make dinner. I just don’t have time. Well, that excuse I can shoot down pretty quick. I was (and probably still am; just had a little setback over the weekend) addicted to video games. I can sit and play games nonstop for anywhere from five to ten hours at a shot. I most certainly do have time, so we can strike that from the list.

What I don’t appear to have is discipline or motivation. I’m the fly in my own ointment.

I did take a shot at it recently. About halfway through August I resolved to write a minimum of 1000 words a day for 30 days in a row. Didn’t work out. No idea why. I couldn’t sit down and write for an hour, and I’ve got three to four things I know I could work on. I just didn’t. I’d end up doing other things.

I decided to hit the reset button and make September my 30 days. I wrote about 700 words on September 1, pretty good for me. On September 2 I discovered I had freelance work, a paying assignment with a short deadline. This was after I’d already planned on mowing the lawn and getting the ironing out of the way. That plus the paid work ate up my time. I spent the Labor Day weekend … well, laboring.

All that was out of the way by Wednesday, though. Did I write? ‘Fraid not. All of a sudden I’m blogging again. That’s what I’ve been writing instead of my thousand words. My subconscious mind is a bugger when it comes to doubling down.

The formula does work. You can write a book in a month. The key word is “write.” If you don’t write those thousand words, or any words at all, that book just ain’t gonna happen. Maybe I should have bought that book at B&N and paid attention to it. There may be more to this plotting stuff than I thought.

So I’m going public. I’m going to try it again. Write 1000 words a day and see where I am after 30 days. I’m putting that intention right here in the open for everyone to see and sneer at. I’m hoping the fear of failure and public humiliation will provide the kick in the ass I need to get said ass in gear.

To the basic formula I’m adding a couple of twists to help me along. Like I said, I’ve got maybe three or four stories already started, that I could be working on. Ideally, I should pick one project to concentrate on so it’ll get done in a month. That doesn’t seem to be working. Let’s try something else: pick one main project and use the other three as backups. If the main one fizzles, or I go on a block or something, I’ll hop over to one of the others. If the 1000 words ends up getting split between three stories on a given day, so what? It’s still 1000 words. Sooner or later something will get finished. Math’s absolute like that.

It also gives me blogging topics, as I report my ongoing success and/or failure. I could even use the 1000 words as a post. This is my page and I can do what I want with it. I’ve thought about returning to Shapeshifter Seductions, which has lain fallow of late, and finally finishing that serial story I abandoned when the writer’s block hit. Those chapters run roughly 1000 words and they’re fiction, so it counts. That’ll be my emergency plan.

As I sit here typing this, it’s Wednesday, September 20. That’s my start date, regardless of when this gets posted. Today and for the 29 days that follow, I will be writing a minimum of 1000 words of fiction, come hell, high water (been a lot of that lately, especially in the south), house- and yardwork, or writer’s block. Or even paid assignments. I used to put even those aside while caught up in the gaming addiction. If I can waste an hour or ten playing Spider Solitaire, I can damn well find the time to write 1000 words.

If nothing else, it’ll be excellent training for the upcoming NaNoWriMo, something else I’ve attempted several times in the past, only to crash and burn within a week. This year when I aim, I might just hit the target. Let’s find out together, shall we?

UPDATE: I got a late start yesterday due to lawn mowing, grocery shopping, and a set of edits that had to go out. And I still wrote 700 words. So there. I might have got all 1000 down, but Supernatural came on. Today should be easier: I wrote about 200-300 words this morning, and Project: Runway has long commercial breaks. Time to whip out the pen and notebook. To be continued ...

It's Working

But first, some bird news. I saw my first robin of the season this Sunday. I expected to see one long before this, as we’ve had a mild winter so far. I’m talking temps in the 60s and clear up to the 70s mild. The snow geese, whose annual migration route takes them through my area, usually show up around the beginning or middle of March. They’ve been and gone already. Why not? There was open water and food, so they passed through early.

That was also the weekend Lititz had its annual ice sculpture festival. They hold it outdoors in mid-February so the ice doesn’t melt. Wishful thinking this year, since weekend temperatures hovered in the mid-60s, with plenty of direct sunlight. I didn’t get much chance to look around, because Lititz was wall-to-wall people on Saturday and there was no parking, so I was restricted to whatever I could glimpse from the car. I didn’t go back on Sunday; I figured the sculptures would be shapeless lumps by then. Besides, I was working on paid stuff and didn’t get out of the house.

Which segues nicely into my topic for today. Last time I stopped here I detailed my plan to fight my computer game addiction (aka my procrastination problem) by reprogramming my brain not to play games in certain areas—in this case, the “office” where I have my old computer. In recent months I’ve had an increasing problem with game-playing interfering with my freelance paying stuff, and by extension my ability to pay the rent. By establishing the office as a “work only” zone, with no games allowed, I hoped to be able to set up the laptop in there and actually get stuff done.

And son of a Klingon, it worked.

Most of last week, from Tuesday until Friday morning, I set up in the office and wrote. Or at least I did until I got an assignment. Then I switched off between the paid project and the writing. Get tired of one, hop over to the other. Get tired of both, get up and do housework or something. I took a lot of bathroom breaks, but I managed to be productive rather than procrastinate. I was lucky in that the freelance work was an easy one this time around, in that the proofread pages just flew by.

And the writing. Holy guacamole. Most days I struggle to write a couple hundred words. My first day (before I went up to the library and discovered I’d be legitimately working that week) I typed at least 4000 words. The other couple of days I averaged around 2000, because I needed to allot time to get the paycheck-generating work out. I really felt no urge to switch to the games. My brain accepted the dictate of “no games in the office” and actually followed through.

That’s not to say I didn’t screw off. There were bathroom breaks, and food breaks, and breaks to check what was on cable, and breaks just to get up and move around. But for the most part, I worked. I averaged about 5-6 hours per day, which is more than a lot of people put in during an 8-hour work day. (I’ve worked in offices. I’ve seen masters of the art of slacking in action, people who put me to shame. When I worked at the newspaper, one of my fellow editors routinely put in 9-hour days. Literally half of that was spent standing around schmoozing with her coworkers. I kid you not.)

Clearly I’m on the right track here. Once the brain makes up its mind about something, it tends to stick to it. My years in the work force taught it to equate an office with worktime. Telling it I’m going to the “office” puts me into productive mode. Another couple of weeks and I may be able to get the habit to stick.

There are still a couple of speed bumps. I did set up on the couch and in bed a few times after dinner. I went right into the games. Not as bad as previously, but still. I need to reserve that for after the “work day,” when getting seized by gaming impulses doesn’t really matter. Maybe that’s why I was able to break off early. I’m not putting things off now. When I go for the games, the work’s already done for the day. It pretty much defeats the purpose of procrastination.

The next step is to stop getting the laptop out in bed and on the couch. I can write longhand there, or practice drawing or something. I haven’t decided what to designate the kitchen table as yet. I can see the TV from there, so it’s kind of a combination work desk/couch part 2. I should accept right now that I’m not going to get anything done while the TV’s on and plan accordingly.

# # #

One last note on the writing: I still have a ways to go. I was typing like mad last week because I wanted to sub to an anthology and Friday was the deadline. Even with all the work I got done, I didn’t make it. On Thursday night I considered the time frame and where the manuscript was at and decided to skip it. I might have gotten the story done, but it would have been a rush job. Better to miss out, take my time, and give it the time and effort it deserves. I can still send it in to the publisher as an independent story. I still showed myself what I can do when my brain and I work together, and it was a definite win.

That means no more writing in bed. Save bed for reading and sleeping. And, oh yeah, other stuff. Which reminds me, I’d better change the sheets.

Turning Tricks

Let’s be straight from the outset: writing is hard work. Hard work and I have never gotten along. This is why, over the years, I’ve become a master procrastinator.

Take this morning. Yeah, I got a couple hundred words in. Then I looked out the window. One of the posts in my deck railing had come loose, the load-bearing one holding up the drain spout, leaving the pipe to hang at an angle. So of course I had to go out right then and nail it back into place. Then I had to make sure the tarp on the air conditioner was secure. Then, as long as I was dressed, I went out to the dollar store because I’d been planning to get light bulbs and paper towels anyway. When I got home, I did the dishes. Instead of finally getting back to my story, I’m now writing this blog. See how one thing leads to another?

Writing is the only time I feel an urge to do housework. Those women who publish a book a month either trained their kids as housekeeping staff, or have the best damn husbands on the planet.

And then there’s my more insidious method, the computer game addiction.

Since I posted my confession in January, I’ve had off-and-on success. I was “clean” for three weeks. I slipped up at the end of January, but vowed to kick the habit for February. That lasted three days, and culminated in an obsessive all-day marathon that kept me up until 3 in the morning. The only bright spot is that once I get sufficient sleep I wake up energetic and with no urge to play. Even so, I’ve had minor setbacks here and there.

Other people with different addiction problems have said this, and I’m adding my voice to the mix: will power does not work. It doesn’t make you weak or a loser. It’s just that determination alone isn’t sufficient. If you’re a food addict, clearing all the junk food out of the house might help, but you have to leave the house eventually. What’s to stop you from grabbing a box of Funny Bones while you’re out picking up the light bulbs and paper towels? Will power only goes so far.

In my case, the addiction is just another symptom. The underlying problem, the real problem, is procrastination. However, the addiction has become a threat to both my physical health and my chances of maintaining financial stability. I have to deal with the symptom directly while trying to root out the cause.

If will power won’t cut it, then I’ll have to resort to trickery.

One thing I’ve heard that does work, more or less, is replacing bad habits with better ones. This is why ex-smokers get fat. They substitute putting gum or something in their mouths instead of a cigarette. Is sugar better or worse for you than nicotine? You be the judge.

In my case, I’m trying a bit of re-programming. I’ve fallen into the unfortunate habit of playing wherever I set up the laptop, including out in public. The foremost danger zones are in bed and on the couch in front of the TV. If I stay off those, I’m halfway home.

This week I’ve designated my “office” (the second bedroom) as a no-game zone. When I sit at the desk in there, it’s work-related activities only. No games in the office from here on.

I know I can establish positive habits. I’ve already trained myself to do the dishes every night. The reward is waking up to a clean, empty sink in the morning. The office is where I keep my ancient desktop, the ‘90s-era Troglodyte 1000. That doesn’t have any games on it, so my brain’s already programmed to expect a game-free experience when I sit down at the keyboard. I just need to extend that mindset to include the laptop and I might be back in business.

As for the bed and the couch, well … I’m on the couch right now, and I’ve already jumped around several times between this blog and the games. I suspect aversion therapy—no more setting up in bed or in front of the TV—may be the only solution.

Next on the list will be training myself to avoid playing in public. Since I only set up outside the house to use public WiFi, I can distract myself with the Internet. Sugar or nicotine, pick your poison.

As for whatever it is that’s generating my procrastination in the first place, that’s going to take some digging. Maybe I’ll put that off for the time being, and just write instead. Replace bad habits with better, more productive ones. Isn’t that the point?

Clean Slate

Aaaannnnd we’re back. I took a few weeks off mostly out of laziness. It’s not so easy coming up with new topics week after week. I don’t know how newspaper columnists do it. Oh, right, they get a paycheck.

I’ve decided to kick off the new year with a confession. In fact, the topic is why it took me all week to write and post this, when I’d intended to post on Monday. Deep breath and here we go:

I am an addict. I’m addicted to video games.

This is not a joke. It’s not the start of a rant. For me, it’s a serious problem. Moreso in recent months, because it’s started to interfere with the paying work. I almost missed a couple of deadlines because I got playing games when I should have been doing the freelance stuff that pays my bills. I did miss a couple of postings on this and my other blog last year, because I played games instead of writing. It’s one of the reasons I don’t get stories out faster. Again, that’s money I need that I’m missing out on because I’m playing computer solitaire. Not exactly the best use of my time.

How bad has it gotten? Well, ever heard those stories about people playing games well into the early morning hours? Or around the clock? They’re true. I’ve averaged eight to twelve hour marathons just on one game alone. I think the longest I ever went was over sixteen hours. I’ve started playing during the morning and gone on to two or three a.m. Then sleep for maybe three-four hours and get up. And sometimes start over.

During those hours I don’t eat or move around or go to the bathroom. For some reason I don’t feel tired. I get the feeling the game activity is messing with my brain chemistry. It’s certainly messing with my physical well-being. I haven’t gained weight, but I’ve definitely lost endurance. I can tell that just by walking around the house.

I once followed this pattern for roughly a week. Little food, less sleep, no exercise. Then I woke from a nap light-headed and unable to focus my eyes. I didn’t know if it was me or a gas leak (I have no sense of smell). I ended up calling the local volunteer fire department and had them come out to check my furnace and propane tanks and scan for carbon monoxide. Turns out everything was fine, except for me. The firemen checked my blood pressure and asked if I wanted them to call an ambulance. I turned them down because I knew what the problem was. I’d done it to myself. After some food and a decent night’s sleep I was okay.

That should have been my rock bottom, my turning point. It wasn’t. I think I quit for a while after that, but pretty soon I was back at it. Not continuously, but days here and there, for longer and longer stretches. The kind that interfere with life and the paying work, as noted above.

I’m not talking about World of Warcraft or any of the other games found on the Internet. These are the simple games that came with my laptop: Freecell, Solitaire, Spider Solitaire, Mah Jong. Those are the dangerous ones. I found others on the Net, before Yahoo discontinued their Games program. I once played Jewel Quest in the library lobby for nine hours. That was well after the incident with the fire department.

I’ve known for years I have a problem with OCDish behavior. I learned decades ago I don’t dare keep a deck of cards in the house. I used to buy those Sudoku magazines and compulsively work the puzzles until I ended up ripping up the magazine and throwing it out. That was the only way I could stop.

I don’t know what to do about these games. I don’t have home Internet, so in that respect I’m restricted by the library’s hours. The ones I’m having trouble with are on the laptop’s hard drive. I can’t block them (I tried). I can’t delete them. I asked the guys at the computer repair place to do that and they said they couldn’t without wrecking the hard drive. I can’t get rid of the laptop because I need it for writing and work. It’s not like keeping booze or drugs or junk food out of the house. As far as removing temptation goes, I’m pretty much up the creek.

Even worse, I don’t think this addiction is itself the real problem. I suspect it’s a symptom of some deeper problem, namely procrastination/work avoidance. I’ve stopped in the past. I was “clean” for nearly all of 2016. During my gameless phase I noticed I tended to watch mindless stuff on TV or read excessively or even do housework. Anything rather than write. I’d also just started the freelance job back then, so I was motivated by bills and a paycheck to stay productive.

Then one day I clicked on the Games program and decided to play “just one game.” That was my downfall. That was when I started getting into the longer-than-eight-hour sessions, usually when I was supposed to be working on paid stuff.

That’s the part that finally scared me. I don’t have a regular job, and at my age in this economy I’m not likely to find one that pays a living wage. If I screw up this freelance gig, I’ll be down to just my savings for financial resources, and that won’t last forever. At this rate, that won’t even last two years.

So I need to work, and I need to be more productive. Instead I turn to the games, then beat myself up afterward. And downward the spiral goes.

Before anyone asks, I haven’t worked a “traditional” job for about five years now, so I’m not doing this in the workplace. There’s no family involved, so no one else is affected by my slacker ways. That means there’s no support system, either. Most of the time I’m pretty isolated, which may be part of the problem. Does FaceBook have a page for gaming addicts? Is it helpful? Because I haven’t been doing so well on my own.

I was going to call it quits at Christmas. Go cold turkey. Didn’t work. I stopped “for good this time, I mean it” New Year’s Eve. I fell back into the habit three days later. I was playing as recently as last night. I put off paid work because the urge to play games was just that strong.

And yet … this morning I woke up with no compulsion at all. That’s happened to me before. I’ll go through a phase where I can’t stay away from the games, and then it just … goes away. It’s like a switch gets thrown in my head. The switch must have clicked overnight because I’m okay now. I’ve been working on the laptop all morning with no inclinations to play at all. This could last for today, or a week, or maybe a couple of months. I’m taking advantage of the break to confess to the world in this blog.

What I should be doing is using this time to root around in my head and figure out what the real problem is, why I play in the first place. Dr. Phil says, “People do what works,” but how is repetitively playing the same game for twelve or more hours giving me a positive payoff? I’m sure it has to do with self-sabotage. This is the point where a normal person would seek professional help, but video game addiction isn’t considered a real problem by the medical community so my health insurance won’t pay for it. Fair enough. If I don’t work because I’m playing games all the time, soon I won’t have money to pay for the health insurance. That’ll teach ‘em.

So instead of playing games, or working, or writing, I can lie down somewhere and stare into space and examine my motivations, or lack thereof. People who do this call it “meditation.” Sounds like a prime time-waster to me, marginally healthier than what I’ve been doing. Maybe I’ll give it a go.