I had dreams last night. When I'm not writing, I don't dream. So last night I had dreams and I see a short story forming in front of me. I've lost confidence in my ability to write my novel. I need to take a step back. My writing is improving. I know it is. Lately I've been wondering if I could do a short story. One that I would be proud to try to get published. I look back at the stuff I wrote just a year ago, and see how far I've come. Not that I need to sell a story. It's just that I need to write a story that I think is worth selling.
Weird. I went to a car race last night. I was writing up a story for the website, when I started to notice that it was good. I've reworked it a couple times and it's shaping up to be a nice essay on growing older and understanding lost dreams.
No audience. Just comedians. Only had four minutes becuase the host kept going long. I had fun anyways.
The car racing essay is shaping up nicely. A major rewrite has brought it to a thousand words. It still needs a pile of work though. It hasn't yet met its potential.
Good audience. I got to follow Mr. Pitt. I was lucky he didn't walk the room. It took a minute to win the crowd back, but we had fun when they did.
When all else fails, dream. The problem is that sometimes I dream that I can't fall asleep. The I wake up and really can't get back to sleep. Fun stuff. I think this has happened because I'm not writing. The car racing essay is intimidating me. I'm not sure I can give it all it's worth. I have to learn to not let that bother me. If I judge myself against impossible ideals, I'll never get anywhere.
I wrote a pile of good stuff for the Petaluma article. I have a ton of ideas for the novel. I'm forming the Spam Killer story in my head. The puzzle dreams have stopped.
Successful depression. I had a pretty good set. Wandered about for a bit with a Star Dates joke that I hadn't fully developed. Before the show I had too many beers sitting in the Latin American club watching this guy hopelesly trying to pick up the bartender. A bit of knowledge of Norse mythology and better posture would have helped imensely. Hey, if I notice you have bad posture, you're in trouble!
So where does the depression come in? I'm tired of treading water. My career has gone no where for quite some time, by my own doing. I have not persued a comedy career, putting it aside to concentrate on my writing career. But lately it has gotten harder. I am actually turning down offers to do comedy. I don't have the time to go on the road, and I don't have the time to work on my act. One reason I've kept going because comedians are my only social life, but that is fading. Many of the comedians I consider my friends are not treading water. I see them on TV. I see their names in ads for the big clubs. I hear about dream gigs working with big stars. They are leaving me behind. That's where the depression comes in.
I'll always do comedy. But for a while I'll be doing it less.