Thoughts At The End Of A Writing Day

Some days of writing are like the finest drug in the world, matched with the finest meditation, with the reward of knowing you’ll provide meditation for others. Other days writing is the total mindfuck, but you still get it done, put in the work, hanging in, hanging on, just to live and breathe and eat and love and write again another day.

Old Man Winter and Writing

“You could have been anywhere on the internet right now, but you’re here, and I appreciate that.”

I have several writing projects in the works, and I've got a great space to write here in Durango, out in the hills, with little distraction. The ground is covered in snow, and old man winter is in the house. This is typically the most productive time of year for me, writing wise, as long as I don't get the blues; which really doesn't happen to me here in Durango, it's just too mild of a winter for the dark side winter to really get to me.

When I really get into the writing zone I typically start as many writing projects as possible, I think it is the so called ADD of my mind (ADD is a term I've never liked, but I won't rant here) to start multiple projects at the same time, and then focus on whatever one I like when the time is right; or when I have a deadline.

Those are just some random thoughts, what I'm really thinking about this morning is making it, as in making it as a writer; supporting myself with the pen. I've done it before, professionally, when I worked in public relations in higher education, but that was writing for someone else, creating stories for an institution, telling their story. Now I'm trying to make it with pure honesty, my own words, my own stories.

Trying to make it, on my own, has been directly tied to the economy, and I imagine there are thousands and thousands of other artists out there who lost their 9-5 jobs with the downturn, and are now focused more on their art. That’s exactly what happened to me, my job was cut as the government gave less to the college I was working for, and I was one of the victims.

Economically that may have been one of the worst things that could of happened to me as my thirties started, but artistically and spiritually it was the best thing that could have happened. Now, a year later after being laid off I have my first book, “Climbing Out of Bed” nearly done, and it’s so, very close to publication. I don’t think I would be so close if I was still slaving away in the 9-5 world.

For this blog, as I really delve into my writing this winter, I’m going to use it as a forum for more than just climbing, as I don’t only write about climbing, and also because The Climbing Zine is finally going to have its own website, and thus I won’t have to use lukemehall.blogspot.com for the zine’s main page. (Look for The Climbing Zine website to drop within the next month or two.) I’ll probably change the name of this blog, as I have many times before, but the address will remain the same.

So, welcome old man winter, and to all of the artists out there, putting your 10,000 hours in, for the love, keep your head up, stay positive, and create. After all, what else is there to do with your life?

Here's a couple photos I took yesterday during a snowy bouldering session in Durango at Turtle Lake. We had seven people out yesterday, and I'm relieved that so many folks here are willing to climb in the snow, because I plan on doing that all winter long baby!

Heather and Tim, psyched on winter bouldering!

Rest Days are the Best Days

I heard this phrase from a climber in Joshua Tree one time, and I like it!

The older I get the more balanced I feel with climbing. We climbers tend to be really fiendish and obsessive, and I think its important to remember how awesome it is just to be alive. Anywho, here are some photos of rest day activities, from this summer.

Picking raspberries, always a good time. Shaun Matusawicz stockin' up in Spring Creek Canyon for his famous muffins.

Mountain biking, always a popular rest day activity. This is Greg Pettys on the road up to the 401 trail in Crested Butte.

Of course, writing and reflection is one of the best rest day activities. Write it all down before you forget is something a wise man once told me. Often I'll go back to my journal entries to revisit the past, whether its a crush on a new woman, or recalling a breakthrough climb.

Chillin at a lake is always awesome when you're worked! Here's my boys Ben Johnson and Al Smith III hiking up to Long Lake in Crested Butte.

Can't beat boomers, or a parade for a rest day activity. This is from the Fourth of July parade in Crested Butte.

Ha Ha Ha...You know what I want!

Partying always fun for a rest day, just don't hit it too hard, especially in Sin City!


And on that note, I'm going bouldering! uuuuuhhhhhhhh

A Story with No Title

“You’re only as good as your last piece.”

These are the words that a photographer friend of mine shared with me recently and I’ve been coming back to this phrase time and time again in my thoughts.

I don’t feel this phrase applies to all artists in the sense of their careers, but rather the way the artist feels inside. Or, more individually the way I’ve been feeling about my writing.

I love writing and I am dependant on that feeling I get when I’ve put together something that I feel is good. It is as fleeting as the sunset, but the satisfaction of creating something that one feels proud of is heroic and once an artist has experienced this repeatedly it is a good foundation for a career, and a healthy outlet for emotions.

This year I’ve had many articles published, fiction and non-fiction, profiles of all kinds of interesting people, articles that were boring to write, and essays that wrote themselves. Yet because I haven’t done anything I feel proud of in the last couple of weeks I feel a sense of emptiness. Some call this writer’s block, but I’ve been writing long enough to know that writer’s block is natural. Eventually the magic comes back, and when it does after it’s been away for so long it’s a powerful feeling, one that at times makes me want to get down on my knees and pray with thankfulness that I am alive.

So what am I writing about here? I am not too young to be writing about writing? That’s something for the Stephen King’s of the world to do, those who have enough experience to actually write about writing.

I suppose I’m trying to get the juices going, to write a prayer to the writing gods, to be thankful that people read what I write, that someone might even read this.

All in all I’m realizing that writing is a humble path, and when the words just aren’t coming onto the paper it’s a blessing to remember that they have flowed on the paper before, and that they will again. The words will once again come with an ease that seems like they are writing themselves. Someday I will have a book on the shelves, but for now I am only as good as what I have recently composed.

I’m just a young man who dreams of being a writer and living the writing life, and that seems like something valuable in itself.