Seven-hundred and seventy words. That is how much I got through the first day of writing After Revelation. The number feels pathetic for the amount of hours I put into it. Distractions are Satan incarnate.

Starting a novel is the worst part. You may have the concept, the setting, the characters, and probably the ending. Sitting down and hedging your bets on something nobody might read is enough to know you could be pursuing an unremarkably stupid feat just for the personal satisfaction of achieving something a tiny minority of living humans do.

At least this time, I’m writing something the public wants: destruction, post-apocalyptic, doomsday, life-and-death situations. I didn’t pick this story because its genre is popular. I have had After Revelation in mind since 2008, and had a pretty good outline finished by 2012.

Why write it now and not ten years ago? Because I’m an idiot. I can’t elaborate more on that.

For years, I considered turning it into a short film. It has all the elements to become one. The problem is short films don’t make money. I’m greedy. At best, if the film is done well, it becomes a calling card to knock on doors to get financing for a bigger movie.

I once tried pushing a script into the Hollywood system, and learned the steep hill one needs to climb in order to make one story gain attention. After Revelation could still be made into a short film, but it looks like it will become a short novel, for now.

As for why it has taken After Revelation so much time to become anything, I can come up with many pathetic excuses. Perhaps I didn’t feel ready to tackle a subject that has affected me since my family successfully ingrained in my conscience the possibility of witnessing total chaos with the Y2K craze when I was twelve. Research it if you don’t know what I’m talking about.

Last week, we heard the news of a potential asteroid impacting Earth in 2032. Though the chances of that shit hitting us stands at three percent, maybe this is a good time to explore survival themes and scenarios. It might help me (or you) become a survivalist, like I would know anything about it.

Though After Revelation is still on first-draft phase, I can share with you its likely-to-be-fixed opening paragraph:

“The blackout occurred exactly as predicted. News outlets warned that there would be no power, no running water, no functioning electronics, and no breathable air. Survivors had to remain cloistered for an indefinite amount of time. That was the only advice emergency officials shared with the public. Diplomacy around the world collapsed, and the powers-that-be decided to push the button. Nobody knew who attacked first. What followed was hours of the ground shivering, gargantuan explosions echoing remotely, while matter splintered into particles, turning the outside world into a giant sandstorm.”

Now that I read it again, it’s crap, but perhaps it can work to describe the story if I eliminate half the bullshit and refine it. Just now, I deleted that paragraph from the manuscript.

I’m publishing these “journal entries” to document—no, scratch that. These entries are a literal mental latrine to demonstrate the eagerly curious that the writing process is nothing glamorous. Don’t buy into those Instagram and YouTube book influencers who are popular because of those filter-infested videos they make, providing “tutorials” on how cozy and relaxing writing is. Bull! Shit!

There is enough suffering to go through in writing something you hope it means something for people. Even worse, midlife crisis is dawning upon me, and I am seeing relatives, colleagues, friends-of-friends, families-of-friends passing away for different reasons. When mortality hits you in the face, somehow it becomes highly motivating.

That is enough ranting for today. Now I’m going for a walk. Stay tuned.