Woke Up New – Mountain Goats
You know when you’re lost in a valley of mountains. You’re standing at the foot of one of the mountains. And you’re all like… What the funk?! I just climbed a mountain. Seriously. Just did it. Look! And everyone looks as you point to the smaller mountain behind you… Now you’re telling me I have to climb this one as well? This is even bigger too! From the very bottom? All the way to the top again? For funk’s sake. I thought that first mountain might’ve been enough? Surely that’s plenty? Just retire after that? No? It’s not?! For funk… Who’s in charge of this bull-sugar?! Tut. Someone promised me it would be easier than this. Tut. So you decide you’re just going to stand there. Looking at the mountain. Mouth open. Head cocked to the side. Tuting away. King Tut. Waiting for something to appear. Anything at all. Until nothing does. So you just start climbing up again…
You know that buzz? Well, that’s kind of exactly what it feels like when you’re trying to start your second book. On the off-chance you were ever wondering. Past week has been like that. Bones of the book laid out. Not to sure with the ending. Making me unsure which angle to approach it at. Sat around. In my new robe (which is unreal, by the by. Everyone should work in a robe!) Tuting away. Not writing. Merely getting a dead anus. Sitting. Thinking. Tuting. Must. Start. Somewhere. Must. Do. Something. So I decided to fool myself. Ish. Procrastinate. Edit an Author’s Cut of Randumb for a side-project thingamajig.
First time I’ve actually read Randumb since it was published. Good to go back over it. Realised a few interesting things. One: It appears I am a prophet. Two: You might call it an idiot. Potato. Tomato. Proph. Idiot. Prophidiot. Whichever.
Page 273: (Just arrived back in Cork. Not sure if or when I’ll get back to LA…) Obviously I’d prefer to be on a beach in the Caribbean. That can wait for now though. Further down the line. Keep the faith.
Cut to a few months later: I’m lying on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean. Amazing stuff!? I know! Similar prophecies/idiocies littered throughout the book! Along with pre-tty mighty, sage advice. Reading it now, almost seems like I wrote it for future me to read right now. Reminders. Nuggets. Wisdom. Such as…
Page 252: Don’t need a TV company to give me permission to do this or that. Some of their money would be nice. Nice and handy. However, until then, I’m going to start doing things on my own.
Hey Mountain, Come Over Here A Minute...
Kind of forgot about this approach. Also forgot I was pretty close to getting a TV deal before. Seems like ages ago. Forgot too about how much running around like a headless chicken I used to do. Acting classes. Stand-up. Any chance. Up and down to Dublin, just to do stand-up. Now, going up to the top of my street seems to be more effort. And I’ve figured out why… Deadlines. Visa. Running out. Money. Running low. Had to get everything and anything done before they both ended up at zero. Now. Cruising along. Visa, dancing. DJigging, flowing. Money. Time. Both tipping along. No deadlines. Comfortable. Nice. Easy. Highs of about 6. Lows of only about 4 though. Steady. Magnificently safe. Starting to get to be a tad dull. Fine way to live. Just not what I came here to do. Enough is enough. Time to schnip that in the bud. Take more chances. Comfort zone off. Abba on!
Anyways, Sunday night I finished up the Author’s Cut of Randumb. Done. Dusted. Slept. Overslept. Right through my alarm. Woke up a few hours later. Balls. Idiot. Until. By the time one would eat a breakfast, two things happened:
- Figured out the ending for book two
- Figured out the next step in my plan
Just like that. Pop. Bang. Wuu! Both closely linked. As in the same thing, kind of. And in case I am not spelling it out clearly, I am funking pumped! No more pottering around at the bottom of the mountain. Looking at it from over here. Meekly calling. Hey mountain, come over here? Ah come on? Tut. A goal without a plan is just a wish. Every man needs a plan! Oh. Betsy! Mountain. Climbing. On!
Ain’t No Mountain High Enough – Marvin Gaye