Two weeks ago I was hit with an impactful, decisive, game changing (emotional) rock bottom. It wasn’t fun.
Fourteen days ago my girlfriend and I got into a barnstormer of an alcohol fueled (her, not me) late night fight, which led to her saying a lot of things that I’m still carrying with me, rattling away, as they can, in the back of my mindgrapes. Thankfully, things are working out and with a little effort on both our parts, I’m confident that everything will realign for us. We’re on the mend, we just need a little TLC. (In a cute way, you pervert!)
The reason I want to try and paint a little context, dabbing it into this post like a cloud loving Bob Ross, is because it does, believe it or not, relate to my writing…
I’ve been at a low point recently. Things haven’t been going my way for a while now (Damn you, Universe! *shakes fist*) and my mental health has been getting gradually worse over the course of maybe five years or so. It’s fine, I suppose. It kind of has to be. It’s a new normal that I need to adjust to, learn about, and try and heal from as best as I can. I get that. As I wrote about in my last blog, I want Write Steve Write to be a record of my writing process and progress, not a boo-hoo blog that no body would ever want to read. So, with this in mind, I wanted to create a positive out of my personal emotional rock bottom.
I was gutted. Floored. It felt like my insides had caved away, leaving me empty. Less than empty. Hollowed out. I was hollow and empty.
A mixture of frustrastions and stress from all elements of my life coalesced into a perfect storm for the argument that long, late night two weeks ago. It drove me past the crust of what I thought was my bottom; it smashed me through into a dire emotional rock bottom. And on that level, with that realisation, with my inability to feel at the point in time, I forced myself to create a positive. I didn’t wait, I didn’t look, I didn’t cajole or coax. I forced it into being.
My mindset was simple. If this is it, if this is my lowest point, then I have nothing to fear.
Feeling the way I did (do…), why should I be afraid? I mean, I’m already at an emotional rock bottom, eh, so what difference would it make to get a rejection? On the naively hopeful flip side, what about if I got an acceptance? (Whoa there, cowboy! Let’s not get carried away just yet)
So, while I’m on the ropes, while I’ve got nothing more to lose, right…fuck it. Send it. Get the submission documents in order, make sure it matches each literary agency’s differing laundry list of requirements, suck it up and send.
So I did.
And with every one I’ve sent, I’ve panicked just a bit, worried over what stupid, infinitesimally small, but present, detail I’ve messed up. There were a few, unfortunately. Minor for us, perhaps, but certainly not for ‘them’.
But what’s key here?
The fact I hit submit.
Working in waves over the course of the next few weeks, I’m going to be sending out my submission materials for Temporary to a number of different literary agencies in the hope of capturing just one persons imagination with my story. A story about powers, a story about betrayal, family, guilt and friendship…a story about choice.
It took hitting an emotional rock bottom to allow me to quell my fear and finally get into gear in a way I should have done months ago. All journeys are different; some are more direct and others twist and turn, winding into paths less known. Right now, I’m turned around in the Lost Woods, but perhaps I needed to go through this to help me claw myself up out of the hollow pit.
Either way, I made a choice. A choice to create a positive out of an all consuming negative.