Category Archives: i figured it out

i don’t know how he does it (he doesn’t)

to preface this post to say that i am only at the beginning of my marathon, book writing, publishing, promoting course over the next ten weeks and already i’m unable to keep a solid theme for this post, i lost it for a bit there in the middle but then i think i really pull it off there at the end. what do you think? let me know in the comments or @eanweslynn

that being said, allow me to re-introduce myself.

my name is ean weslynn, and i have been abstinent since may.
<circle of anonymous strangers claps hands half-heartedly)
this is the first i've really spoken about it. i don't really mention it and i'm rarely around anyone to mention it to. i'd talk to jones about it, but he's my ass. man, my assistant, man. he knows what i've done cause he's the one that put it in the calendar. we don't need to talk about how there haven't been any fuchsia-color coded events all summer.
why buy the cow when you get the milk for free?
some people are lactose-intolerant, i am not some people. i love milk. heck, i love almost everything dairy (i'm looking at you skim milk), i would dare say that the only thing i love more than milk is free milk. free milk is the best, and it's even better if it's straight from the cow, not some gif of milk on tumblr or amateur milk movies ask any of my irl friends, i have story after story of me getting free milk in cars, on beaches, at a farm..i forgot what i was talking about..
oh yeah, milk represented sex.
i'm not some sex-negative moral-pusher, i just realized that i wanted to mix my metaphor up and have milk be something else for a change. i'd be lying if i said i understood this at the time, but as i was getting more into the series, the less i found myself getting into other people. they say if you want to get over someone turn them into literature. what they don't say is what the literature turns into. it turns into everything for you. at least, that's what it became for me.
this is by far my longest relationship of my adult life, coming in second to my relationship with my non-clicking hand (to be fair, my hand has been involved with the book from the start).
the whole process is joyfully exhausting and i really can't wait for it to be over. like what i imagine a baby's parents feel (in between the crying and pooping) and what i feel about new love. (maybe that's why this is my longest relationship) not because i no longer like the book, but because it's time for us to move on.
this brings me to why i have chosen to become abstinent. because i don't know how someone could do it any other way. as all my fellow self-pubbers know there is no rest for the writer.
if i'm not bookworking, i'm editing, storyboarding, note taking, plotting, arcing, time-lining, critiquing, marketing, promoting, networking, follow-uping, texting, tweeting, facebooking, google+ing, working, socializing, overdrawing, drinking, eating and sleeping. at no point in that list do i have time to think about how cute that guy was or how many days it's been since i last felt a man's touch (117).
mad props to those fabled ones that they write sarah jessica parker movies about, the ones that can have those things. not me. not now at least.

in high school economics i was introduced to cost-benefit analysis. when resources are finite, you have to give something up in order to gain anything. simple enough.
at first writing meant giving up a bit of each day to giving up a bit of me to the page (or the google doc). as my interest and skills grew so did the necessary requirements to sustain such growth. now it is no longer an escape, it is what i do. from now on, this thing, this storytelling, will be the thing that i need escape from.
starting a new relationship is hard enough, but when you are spending most of your time in another world that no one can join you in, not without you leaving a map first. so i’m working on the map and after this first map is finished. i’ll see about having someone else join me on the trail
so i guess to remix these metaphors, until i finish the book, i’m not trying to get any, but once the book is done, i will reassess the situation and when i finally put up a fuchsia-colored event i’m gonna gulp down that big hard glass of free milk like a farmboy back home from thailand.

as always hova says it best, ‘i’m not a business man. i’m a business, man.’ and in order for my business to stay in business there can’t be funny business.


kickstarter a no go, this time

my book project was just rejected from kickstarter, but i blame myself, a weekend of filming and tweeting, i jinxed it.
i have learned time and again the rule of not counting one’s eggs before they are hatched. countless times that i told people about something new or exciting before it happens it falls through. you would think i would learn or get depressed or something, but no, i glide on happily towards the next time something good is about to happen to me and i ruin it.
i have a great life, regardless of student loans and self-imposed stress, and many great things happen to me daily, but it’s those sure things i just can’t help but gush about that end up falling through.
i worry what this trend means to the fate of the book, but quickly push the worry away and do something useful with my keep improving the book. they say you can spend time talking about a book or you can spend time writing it. in this day and age, i’m banking that you can do both.


funny story, the internet blows at my place and while i was trying to upload this post, i got an error message. the post about how we didn’t get this proposal for kickstarter failed. sometimes you just gotta laugh and thank snoop for screen shots:


mcdonalds: sex with an ex

i figured it out.  ‘eating mcdonalds is the culinary equivalent to having sex with your ex.’  you can go forever without thinking about them, then suddenly you see them in a moment of weakness.  you try to remind yourself why it is you haven’t partaken in so long but the reasons escape you and you begin to question if they ever existed.  you convince yourself that this time you will do it differently but somehow you still end up ordering more of the same.  and at first it is better than you remember and then it starts coming back.  that feeling in the pit of your stomach that this was, in fact, a horrible idea.

how quickly it turns, suddenly you feel sweaty and full with a sense of nothingness.  you want the feeling to stop but the memories of what you have just done won’t let you go.  you leave and destroy all the evidence that you were ever there.  you say your ‘hail snoops’ and vow that this will be the last time.  that you will never cave again..

(it should be noted that i wrote this while at a mcdonalds.  i had my usual double quarter pounder meal with no onions and as usual i now feel gross and slow and now have to go to work)

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