Gauthic Times: The Bill Gauthier Newsletter #146, or When the Words Don’t Come

Hello, friends.

And somehow we’re in November. So starts the busy months of the year, which, frankly, scares me considering how busy things have been. But’s that’s life, I guess. My younger daughter turns 13 this week, which hits me right between the eyes. My baby will be a teenager. How? Because time fucks with you, that’s why.

Welcome to the 146^th installment of Gauthic Times, the newsletter about my writing, my life, and not knowing what to write. If you’re a reader who subscribes via Substack, my website, or Patreon, your encouragement helps motivate me. I’m not breaking any records but I’m thankful to have any audience.

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This week saw the addition of around 1,400 words in Project: Moons. I had trouble accessing the words some days, due mainly to distractions, but that’s on me. I need to stop being foolish and do things that are better for my work.

I’ve been thinking a lot about a new story and a nonfiction book, both of which I would love to do right now but hardly have the time for writing Project: Moons, revising Project: Amusement Park, and prepping The Monster in the Closet for its February publication.

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I’ve been sitting at my desk for a long time now staring at the screen, trying to figure out what to write about for this week’s essay. I have some ideas but none of them seem good right now. I thought about writing about Back to the Future and how my mother and I went to the local mall to see it but never did, and now that it’s back in theaters for its 40^th anniversary it’d be great to see it. Except, I can’t see it this weekend, which means I may not get to see it in theaters. It would’ve been a nice thing to do that would have brought me some memories that I could (and will someday) write about but I wasn’t feeling it, afraid the essay would devolve into a sad woe-is-me type of thing, but I’m not feeling that right now. I also thought about the note I took a week ago that would compare Dunkin Donuts restaurants where I live in the Southcoast of Massachusetts and the Boston ones, and how the efficiency of the big city Dunkins overshadows the lack of efficiency in the small city ones, but I’m not feeling that right now either. So I sat and stared and dozed sitting up and…

And here we are. The words don’t always come easily. It’s the plight of the creative. No ideas. Except, there are ideas. There are always ideas. The problem isn’t a lack of ideas but rather a lack of emotion to put the ideas out there. The lack of passion. But it’s not really a lack of passion, either, is it? I mean, I’ve already written nearly 300 words on not having any ideas worthy of this week’s newsletter essay. One does not write with this kind of ease without passion, right? And it’s certainly not the lack of words, because I’m using words. I mean, there aren’t any really fancy words in here but my ideas aren’t showing the kind of alacrity that needs really extraordinary vocabulary.

Is it a lack of motivation? I have been extra tired since the start of school because of the energy I’m spending every day. Teaching this year is taking loads of physical, mental, and emotional energy that, combined with the draconian world we suddenly find ourselves in is making it hard to have the simple energy to sit down and create. Sleep is more welcome. Sleep is easy because it takes me away from the world. Except for bedtime, where sleep may not be evasive right away but has certainly been more sporadic and troubled. Nighttime sleep is often unfit and restless. Nap sleep, though…chef’s kiss. All that said, I still want to tell stories, still need to tell stories. My make believe stories, my real stories, I still want/need to write my thoughts down and still have the compulsion to share those thoughts and stories with others.

As for the fiction, the stories aren’t going anywhere. The book I’ve been working on, which I call Project: Moons in my newsletter (though Patreon Patrons know the title…and will have a first look at it), is still chugging along. Sure, I’ve had days where I’ve written less than 100 words but the words are still there. The book I call Project: Amusement Park (which, again Patreon Patrons know the title of) is waiting for me to return to it to continue revising for a third draft. I’ve been remiss to work on it since school started but there’s just so much time and I want to get the first draft of Moons done. And because I’ve also been prepping for the upcoming publication of The Monster in the Closet, my attention has been divided. But the stories are still there, still able to be found.

So none of that is a problem. I guess, in the end, it’s just about deciding what to write about and doing it. Stop fucking around and actually get to work. I guess I’ll do that.

However, I just spent nearly 700 words writing about not knowing what to write about so I think I’ll wait until next week to worry about what to write for my weekly essay.

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