Tao of Pauly

Another Writing Binge

I finally completed the third of three short stories for the new issue of Truckin', due out later this weekend. This past weekend was all about bringing the new template up and working out all the bugs, and I'm still keeping my fingers crossed. This month's stories are done. I wrote three since Monday afternoon and I'm glad I won't have to write any more for at least two weeks. Truckin' has evolved into a full time job, with trying to do all the promotions, finding new writers, editing and publishing, and writing... I have too many hats to wear and sometimes it becomes more like a job, than a passion.

I know I should be proud. I had a vision. I embraced the web. And next month will mark the two year anniversary of my vision... a site where I could share my travel stories and publish short stories that had be routinely rejected by the other ezines out there. I almost gave up on it more than once, well shit, almost every month I have the same fuckin' discussion with myself... on junking it, and letting it get tossed aside like so many of my projects. But, I keep working on it... I write new stories every month. And now, it's read on six continents, so I'm grateful that my words are being read all over the world. That's something I also dreamed about happening.

To think there are people in my life who think I don't take anything seriously, or rather feel I am uncommitted to anything, let alone structure. Truckin' is the big middle finger to their method of pigeon holing me into a hole, their definition of attempting to understand reckless behavior.

I am severely lagging behind on other writing stuff. I'm one week past deadline in an essay I wanted to write on my poker blog. And that might not happen until this weekend. I have to write a fuckin' Memorial Day speech for an uncle who only acknowledges the fact that I'm a writer when ever he wants a speech written. 360 days out of the year, I'm just a lazy fuck up. But on those 5 days... (6 days this year)... when he wants something (and let's get real... he wants to look good in front of a crowd of people... of course he's going to turn to my masterful words) he calls on me in a nasty and condescending tone. And when it's over, he goes back to treating me like a pile of dogshit. Homeless people get more respect from my family than I do sometimes.

I have not played poker much (aside from the action at the Blue Parrot on Monday) this week, and I'm eager to get back to the tables on Party Poker, very soon.

I guess I woke up today in a pissy mood. I'm a little sad about some friends of mine leaving NYC. And, with no certainty on where I will be living in the upcoming months, and two novels inside me itching to get out... I'm worried that I might not be able to churn out my best work, if I am unable to find a comfortable place to write... very soon.

The societal pressures are getting to me. The desperation of the truth is gnawing at my insides. I am unable to relax, knowing the road ahead is filled with plenty of potholes and deadends. But I still get up and take steps... my journey will end, when I have reached my intended destination.