8×10 oil painting

Been spending a lot of my time either painting or sketching lately. Sadly, I’ve been neglecting my writing, but I’ll get back to it soon. I have stories to tell, but I need some time to work on new projects.

The painting above is a small piece, done on black canvas, using oil and a pallette knife. Came out a lot better than I had expected. Thinking about trying to sell it.

My original plan had been to paint my own art for my apartment, but as I do more, maybe I could use another source of income. I’m thinking $85 for this one. I’m looking around for venues to sell my works. We’ll see.


I think the time has come to move on with my life. Things came to a stand still about five years ago, and I’ve been adrift ever since. I became complacent with my situation, neither enjoying it, but not doing anything to remedy it. I kind of gave up.

I’ve been feeling this coming on for a while now, that the time had come to continue on my journey. It’s not a big step really, but moving out on my own will be a change. I haven’t been on my own since before I got married. Honestly, she moved in before we were married. That’s a long time. I’m ready to have my own place.

Technically, I had my own place after we split up. I say technically since I was paying rent at an apartment I never stayed in. I spent all my time with some girl I was seeing. But after that, I stayed with a friend before moving in with family. I got a lot done. I finished college, found a job, made some awesome friends, but I stayed here, with my family, more out of a need to be near them. Emotionally and psychologically, I needed my family.

I’m blessed I had them when I needed them the most.

But I’m stronger now. To be honest, I came to a decision over two years ago to accept certain aspects of my personality. Since then, I found the peace that had been missing in my life. I found that I was stronger because of it. I found that I could be happy. I discovered that my friends would not abandon me for it. In fact, most have embraced me unconditionally.

Because of it, I have a need for some freedoms that I can’t have living with my parents. Some of that is due to my ego. It’s embarrassing to be 40 and living with mommy and daddy. When I moved in, there were financial concerns. I was unemployed and could not find a job anywhere. After finding one, it took some time to rebuild. When I had the means to leave,  remained behind. I had become complacent.

But complacency has put me ill at ease. I’m not comfortable here, or rather I feel as though I have overstayed my welcome. I feel the pull of life calling me, telling me that there are new adventures waiting for me out in the world, new stories to be discovered.

There’s also part of me that needs some privacy. Here in this house, I don’t have the privacy to just sit down and write. There’s too much going on, too many distractions. I lose myself in what’s going out with everyone’s lives that I don’t have a moment to withdraw completely into my own little world, to flesh out new tales to tell.

So I’m looking for my own place. Part of it is because I’m ready to move out. There’s also the practical part of me that’s tired of commuting an hour each way, five days a week. It’s beginning to wear on me. That’s almost 500 hours a year driving back and forth, or about twenty days out of every year wasted in that car.

It’s time to move on. I’m a little nervous about it, which is a little crazy. I’ve been on my own. I left for college when I was 18. Moved to the Dallas area when I was 24. I know how to be on my own, but there’s a small part of me that is worried about venturing out again. It won’t stop me, I’m sure. In fact, it’s why I’m doing it, to conquer the small battles so as to put myself out there for bigger fights.

Mostly, however, I just want some peace and quiet, and a small corner to call my own.

Waiting and working

I’m still waiting for my friend to get back with me on the book she’s reading, so in the meantime, I’m going crazy. Is it good? She hates it. I knew it. She hated it so much that she doesn’t want to tell me how bad it is. It’s been over two weeks, and she usually reads a book within a couple of days. Ugh! Why do I suck?!!!

While I agonize over how shitty I am as I writer, I’m left without a project to work on. I pulled up two different novels, trying to decided which one I like more, which one would take the least amount of work to get ready. The answer is neither. They both suck, so I’m going with the one that sucks the least.

So that’s what I’m doing, trying to rewrite something, all the while waiting for my friend to get back to me on my original wip. It’s excruciating, by the way, believing the worst about your ability to turn a tale, praying that it isn’t as bad as I fear. I hope it isn’t as bad as I fear. Please be serviceable.

So now I’m on Reborn, the tale of a man at the end of his life, who lived a fairly selfish life, but who was given a second chance to prove that that though a man may have a new opportunity to do things right, they -will always revert to their nature. A cheater will always be a cheater. They will always hurt the ones they love.

That’s what I’m working on now. It struck me one day as i saw my ex-wife’s grandfather on his deathbed. I wondered if given a second chance, what a man in his position, a man who lived a selfish life would do. My belief is that he would be the same man. A person changes only when he’s physically unable to do what his nature urges him to do.

So that’s the premise. The story is okay, but poorly written. I have a lot to do, and short of a complete rewrite, I’ll do what I can. It’s something to occupy my time. I love the story, love the premise, but it needs a lot of work.

Read, delete, rewrite, repeat

I completely deleted the ending chapters of Jasmine. Gone. I’m left with a blank page on which to work on. I’ve been fighting with the ending for years. I’ve been trying to make it work, trying and failing, then giving up, only to start again and to meet the same frustrations. This time it’s over. The ending cannot be salvaged. It had to go.

I’m now working on the third scene of chapter twenty, and the pieces are starting to fall together. The ending I’ve been working towards is now closing in, but there’s still some drama to create, a climax to achieve, and hopefully resolution to find. I’m still not overly thrilled with the opening chapter, but I’ll let my beta reader tell me more about it, if it works or not. I may be overthinking it. No, I know I am.

I’m a little antsy to get this over with. I want this to be done. I want to move on to the next phase and get this edited. I had someone email me about hiring her, and the rate she quoted me was at once reasonable and expensive, if that makes any sense. In the end, however, I know that I can kill an otherwise good story if I don’t get someone to proofread it. I’ve started reading few book only to set them down due to poor grammar or spelling. Don’t want that for my book. Hell, I need an editor for my blogs!

Another friend gave me a suggestion on getting a book cover, which I need to follow up on. I want to make a good impression with my first book, but I also know that I can’t over do it and get too much into debt. I could consider trying to find an agent and a publisher. That’s something else I could consider. That would alleviate the technical headaches, but it could be years if ever before I find someone willing to give me a chance. Am I willing to wait that long for that chance?

For now, I have a few more days before I can say I’m done. I would like to be done with it before my vacation, hand it over to my friend to read it. I hope she can give me a critique of what I have, what I might need to look at, and what I might need to delete.