Writing, writing, writing
Keeps me from going insane, I hope, or maybe not.
Sadly I love reading about writers who lose their minds.
If I had to choose I would rather be a Mark Twain than an F. Scott Fitzgerald. But I would rather read Poe or Robert E. Howard.
I have sure had my battles, depression is a bear I wrestle with every freaking day. When I was younger I battled the demon of suicide and by the Grace of God I won that fight. I have been tempted to crawl inside a bottle and never come out, have not gone there so we call that one winning (Sorry Charlie I could not resist, still funny). I am far from a perfect person, I have the same temptations and demons we all have. Some of mine may be worse than some of yours, but God knows some of yours are worse than mine and I would not trade anyone, the devil you know and all.
Writing helps me deal with all that crap. I may never be a famous writer, I may never make a dime off anything I write, hell at the pace I am going now I will never finish a story (see previous post). But as long as I do not lose too much of myself or lose the wrong fight I don’t suppose I will complain too much. Some but not too much.
I will write, someone may read, may not. But I sure feel better when I have written and it keeps the bad crazy at bay for a little while longer. Or maybe it just takes me closer to the edge, until then I will just keep developing all those characters in my mind and maybe someday get them on paper. Or maybe they will just find me in the corner somewhere with all those people arguing in my head so loud the booze can’t shut them up any more. Either way at least it aint boring.