John Kusters Jr.

Welcome to my Writing Adventure

What ADHD is Like for Me

Letter magnets arranged to spell ADHD
Photo credit to Amen Clinics

I’m in the midst of a lengthy evaluation for ADHD. Lots of interviews, lots of surveys, a lot of hoops to jump through. I’ve long suspected that ADHD is one of the things that has been a challenge in my life, but up until recently, the process of getting evaluated was too much of a hurdle to clear. Two things changed that. First, a second brother (of my three) got his diagnosis and said the treatment was life-changing. Second, now that my husband and I are with Kaiser, there was a much more straightforward path to getting evaluated than there had been with UHC.

The finish line is approaching rapidly, so I’ve been reading the books recommended by my clinician — specifically Taking Charge of Adult ADHD by Russell A. Barkley. And I’ll be honest: it’s been discouraging. Not because the book is full of bad news — it’s not. But the ADHD it describes has very little to do with my direct experience. I just don’t see myself being described. There have been moments during my reading where I’ve genuinely wondered if I actually have ADHD, or whether the problems I’m dealing with are symptoms of something else entirely. So I’m doing the thing I often do when something’s rattling around in my head: writing it out to explore it, and sharing it in case others are dealing with the same and have some insight to share.


The symptoms I’ve been calling ADHD are varied. Some are merely annoying, while others have significantly limited my ability to do my job (a factor in my decision to retire early) and to do things I actually want to do, like writing novels. Over the years I’ve developed workarounds for a lot of what used to be more prominent symptoms — making lists, self-rewards for completing minor tasks, optimized playlists for when I need to focus, self-medicating with caffeine pills. But not everything has yielded to workarounds. There are still challenges that are genuinely getting in the way of my life.

Some of the minor annoyances involve being easily distracted. I’ll think of something I want to do on my phone, pick it up, unlock it — and the moment I see a notification, I impulsively open that app and completely forget what I originally intended to do. If I’m lucky, I’ll remember it soon enough to act on it. I’m usually not that lucky. This happens multiple times a day.

Then there’s self-regulation. For example, I’ll know I need to be in bed by a certain time because of something important the next morning, but I just can’t put my phone down. I keep cycling — email, social media, Substack, news, Reddit, back to email — aware the whole time that I’m wasting time, aware that I should have been asleep an hour ago, and still unable to stop.

My relationship with time is its own peculiar thing. I’m not talking about losing track of time while engrossed in a good book — I genuinely hope most people experience that. I mean something stranger. I’m often completely unable to estimate how long a task will take, which used to cause recurring problems at work. I’ll also convince myself I have plenty of time for something that’s due very soon. (Could I research and write a 25-page term paper in under 48 hours, on an electronic typewriter, before the age of word processors? Yes. I even got an A.) But the flip side is equally strange: tasks that are nearly a year away can feel urgent and imminent, like they’re happening tomorrow. When my husband and I decided to move to Spain, I spent several days in a panic about everything we weren’t doing right now — even though my rational mind knew perfectly well that we had plenty of time to plan and act methodically. The irrational mind was convinced we were already behind a schedule that didn’t exist.


The biggest challenge, however, is something I sometimes call engagement and effort inhibition, and sometimes just call work avoidance. It kicks in when I have an important, complicated task ahead of me — writing a scene in a novel, drafting a test plan, documenting a process for handoff — anything requiring sustained, deep thinking. I can have it all planned out: I know what the scene needs to accomplish, I know what needs to be tested and what tools I have, I know the details of the process. But when it’s time to actually do the work, my mind balks. Instead of starting, I feel a near-physical need to distract myself. Grab my phone and scroll. Tidy the desk, the room, the kitchen. Write a blog post about my inability to write the scene. Practice Spanish. Watch another YouTube video about moving to Spain. Anything but the work. And if I manage to force myself to actually sit down and do it, the pull of distraction slowly ramps up until it becomes unbearable.

I do have some partially effective coping mechanisms. Caffeine pills take the edge off the urge to flee into distraction (without making me feel wired, oddly). Certain music helps me focus. Small rewards — a bit of dark chocolate every so many words — can be motivating. I’ll use a Pomodoro timer. But even deployed all at once, it’s still monumentally difficult to get these tasks done, even when it’s something I genuinely want to do, like writing. It’s not that the work is hard, or unpleasant, or unfulfilling. I’m a skilled writer. I enjoy writing. I love the satisfaction of a well-crafted scene. You’d think it would be a simple matter of saying “I’m going to do this now.” It never is.

The one exception had been NaNoWriMo. The need to write roughly 1,667 words per day to hit fifty thousand words by the end of November gave me real daily deadlines with real consequences for missing them. I still struggled with focus, but the deadlines were genuinely, significantly helpful. Deadlines are often cited as a workaround for the focus difficulties that come with ADHD, and I believe it — but self-imposed deadlines don’t work for me. What worked about NaNoWriMo was that an external agency would validate my completion, reward me if I succeeded, and withhold that reward if I didn’t. That accountability was strangely powerful in a way that my own intentions simply aren’t.


So, those are my major challenges with what I’ve been calling my ADHD. The fact that the book’s examples and symptoms feel so different from my own experience has been discouraging. What I most want to get past is the engagement inhibition — I’m not going to get far as a writer if I’m constantly battling myself just to sit down and work. Thankfully, the book isn’t my only resource. I have an appointment with a psychiatrist in a couple of weeks, where I’m hoping to get a formal diagnosis and a treatment plan. I’ll bring up my concerns then. Hopefully he’ll have better answers than I’m finding in the book.

One final thought: Several people have suggested I might have co-occurring autism — sometimes called AuDHD — and that this could be why the ADHD described in the book doesn’t align with my experience. It’s a real possibility. My mom has suggested I might be autistic, and it’s a trait that runs in my family. Unfortunately, when I began the ADHD evaluation intake, a friendly technician warned me not to bring up autism during the process. Kaiser apparently treats autism differently, and if it’s raised, the evaluation gets redirected toward an autism evaluation — which is harder to get a positive diagnosis for, and a negative result would end both evaluations. I don’t know how accurate that is, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. Once the ADHD process is complete, I’ll bring it up with my psychiatrist.

Goal-Powered Role-Playing

Inspired by the excellent book The Game Master’s Handbook of Proactive Roleplaying by Jonah and Tristan Fishel, I’ve been experimenting with a concept I call “goal-powered role-playing.” My gaming groups and I are still in the exploratory phase of implementing this system, but I wanted to get my ideas down on paper. Since I generally run Savage Worlds at my tables, that system has served as our primary lens for exploring this concept.

The system has two intentions. First, it gives players a chance to spotlight the things that matter most to their characters — what they’re hoping to get out of their danger-filled lives. Second, it fuels the GM’s creativity, allowing them to craft stories and adventures that feel tethered to the player characters rather than independent of them. The synergy between these two intentions produces stories that make sense for the characters and a world that genuinely reacts to their actions. Pretty powerful stuff.

Aspirational Goals

To start, each player defines an Aspirational Goal for their character — the thing the character believes, at this moment in their life, will make them happy. It’s what they think they want. This goal will likely evolve over the course of the campaign, because the engine of good storytelling is character growth and change. A character might begin convinced that enough gold pieces to buy a quiet tavern and retire is all they need. But over time, they might discover that freeing an oppressed people, toppling a corrupt ruler, or learning to believe in themselves the way their loved ones do matters far more.

Intermediate Goals

Each player should also define two or three Intermediate Goals — arcs the player wants to explore with their character. Each intermediate goal should support the character’s aspirational goal and take a small handful of sessions to complete. “Discover what happened to my parents” or “figure out what’s behind all these zombies” are good examples: they’ll each take several sessions to resolve and can be broken down into concrete subgoals.

Immediate Goals

Speaking of subgoals — each player should define at least two, and preferably three to five, Immediate Goals for each of their intermediate goals. Each should be something accomplishable in a single session. They don’t need to be a complete roadmap; they can simply reflect what the character knows they can do right now, with further steps to be determined based on the outcomes. “Talk to the bank manager and find out who has access to the vault,” “ask the local sage about the history of the Crimson Claw goblin clan,” or “carouse the starport bars to gather allies for the upcoming battle” are all things that can be done in a session and move an intermediate goal forward.

Using Character Goals

GMs should work with their players to keep goals scoped appropriately and to help brainstorm goals that suit their character concepts. It can also be valuable to encourage players to invent aspects of the campaign setting in support of their goals. This worldbuilding might include factions the characters work for or against, towns or star systems where formative events occurred, enemies who have wronged them, or visions delivered by their deities. GMs have final say over these inventions to prevent conflicts with their own vision — but in general, GMs should rise to the challenge and weave player-created content into the setting.

Once all participating players have defined their goals at each level, the GM should incorporate them into session planning. Intermediate Goals suggest character arcs; look for ways to develop and surprise with them. Immediate Goals suggest events, opportunities, and encounters for the next session. Aspirational Goals are seeds for the future — use them to challenge the characters, test their mettle, and help players explore their characters’ deepest motivations.

Rewards and Upkeep

At the end of each session, spend a few minutes reviewing goal progress with each player. If a player feels they’ve completed an Immediate Goal, check it off and reward the character. In Savage Worlds, I grant an extra Benny for the next session; in D&D 5th Edition, Heroic Inspiration works well. Completing an Intermediate Goal earns a more substantial reward. In Savage Worlds, I award a point of Conviction — a significant bonus. For D&D, I’d offer a boon: perhaps a narrative asset (a title, a reputation, a new ally), a permanent minor feature related to the goal, or something more meta.

Between sessions, players should spend a little time revisiting their goals and determining whether any need to be added, updated, or retired. Just as in real life, revelations and changing circumstances can render goals obsolete. Keeping them fresh ensures they stay relevant and actionable — especially for players motivated by the rewards that come with completing them. Expect to spend a few minutes at the start of each session reviewing and updating goals with GM input.

Participation Is Optional

At my tables, creating and maintaining character goals is entirely optional. Not every player is comfortable taking such an active role in shaping their character’s world. Some prefer to be more reactive — to let the world happen to them — and that’s perfectly valid. But the players at my table who have embraced this system are visibly engaged when they make progress on their goals, enjoy the spotlight time, and are, frankly, pleased to collect the in-game rewards.

If you try this system, or something like it, I’d love to hear how it’s working at your table.

On Cognitive Behavioral Therapy

A dear friend recently posted something on Facebook that appeared to condemn Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), calling it “gaslighting bullshit.” I took great umbrage at that assertion and, in fact, found it infuriating.

I’ll concede that I may have misinterpreted my friend’s intent. They mentioned hating apps that claim to use CBT. I haven’t used those apps, and perhaps what the apps present as CBT is merely hollow, meaningless affirmations. If that’s the case, I would likely agree about the uselessness—and possibly even harm—these apps pose. (This possibility is why I’m posting this in my own space rather than theirs.)

However, that’s not how I read my friend’s criticism. I interpreted it as an attack on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy in general, and such an indictment runs completely contrary to my personal experience as a beneficiary of the technique. To be blunt: Cognitive Behavioral Therapy saved my life.

Before explaining why, I need to offer two caveats. First, I can only speak to my personal experience with the technique; others may have encountered CBT in different forms and come away with different impressions. Second, I’ll be discussing my struggle with depression, including references to suicidal ideation. If this content may cause you harm, please read no further.

I’ve always struggled with depression, though it took years to recognize it as such. As a teenager, I experienced days-long “sulks,” as my parents called them, periods when, if I got out of bed at all, I would spend every available moment lying there, dark thoughts swirling through my head. Yes, I frequently contemplated self-harm, seeking to “end it all” and relieve my suffering or, as I would have said then, “relieve the world of my unbearable presence.” Only the fact that most methods seemed overly painful prevented me from following through.

As I grew older, I learned to mask my depression better, or at least I thought I did. The hard crashes continued occasionally, and the only thing that seemed to help was listening to Indigo Girls. Something about their songs spoke to my inner core of internalized homophobia and loneliness. My friends noticed my struggles, though they misattributed the causes. Coming out helped relieve some symptoms, but the depression persisted, and I still crashed periodically.

Eventually, intense employment stress triggered the worst of my depression, causing me to snap at coworkers and surround myself with a nearly palpable gloom that drove others away. This cost me my job. I was fired from a company I had helped found. Subsequent positions met similar fates as my depression fed on my employment troubles, creating a vicious cycle of worsening mental illness.

I write all this so that you have an understanding how much I was affected by depression.

Finally, I was convinced to seek help. I started taking antidepressants and meeting with a therapist, who suggested we try Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. He described it as identifying distorted thinking—moments when my internal monologue was full of inaccuracies—and finding evidence to prove those thoughts wrong.

(My subsequent reading supported this characterization. “Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy” by David D. Burns is a foundational work in popularizing CBT. The book explores the many ways depression distorts our thinking and offers strategies to counter these distortions. Some characterize CBT as “feel-good toxic positivity,” but I believe they’re entirely wrong.)

Here are some things my depression told me in my darkest moments:

* “You fail at everything.”
* “You’re a stupid loser.”
* “No one wants to spend time with you. No one cares about you.”
* “You’ll never be loved.”

Two revelations of CBT were particularly helpful for me. First, my mind was lying to me, and it was easy to prove these statements inaccurate. Second, my mind dealt in absolutes—and as Obi-Wan Kenobi says, “only the Sith deal in absolutes.”

My therapist helped me recognize these thoughts and thought patterns, identify them, and compile a list of common ones. Then we examined each and found instances in my life—events that happened or things people said—that proved the thoughts inaccurate or, more bluntly, were lies. We completed worksheets documenting times I had succeeded and conducted honest assessments of my skills, talents, and abilities. We reviewed invitations I’d received to parties and events, and noted how people at the weekly board game night I co-hosted enjoyed my jokes and valued my observations.

All these data points proved my all-or-nothing thinking was simply wrong. Given how my mind works, having concrete evidence that a statement is false severely weakens its hold on me. Once the lies are exposed, they lose their power.

As people often say about mental illness: depression lies. CBT helped me expose those lies and counter them with fact-based proof. Is CBT a cure? LOL, No. I still experience depression and bleak periods. But I no longer tolerate the absolute, all-or-nothing, distorted thinking that once pulled me deeper into darkness. I can now recognize depression for what it is, identify distorted thinking, and stop it in its tracks. I wouldn’t have these tools without my therapist suggesting Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.

Will CBT work for everyone? I doubt it. I defer to trained therapists and psychologists who have the experience to recognize when CBT would benefit their patients.

But it worked for me, and I won’t tolerate anyone gaslighting me by calling it bullshit.

Moving to Spain

I haven’t been doing much novel writing lately—my time has been completely absorbed by two TTRPG campaigns and a special new project.

Over the years, my husband and I have traveled to Spain several times. We’ve spent days wandering Barcelona and enjoyed the sun-drenched calm of Mallorca and Ibiza. It didn’t take long for us to fall in love with that part of the country: the walkable cities, the sense of safety, the warmth of the people, and the stunning architecture. My husband, in particular, felt an immediate pull to spend much more time there.

That affection eventually led him to explore the possibility of moving abroad. At first, I was hesitant to take the idea seriously—but he soon made it clear that he was increasingly certain he wanted to make the move, and it would be up to me to decide whether I would join him. He has spent thirty years following me as I pursued my own dreams; how could I not follow him in return? And truthfully, the possibilities ahead excite me.

For the past several months, we’ve been researching what such a move would require. We’ve taken online courses—one especially helpful resource was the Move to Spain Masterclass from Spain Revealed—and joined a variety of online communities. We’ve learned a great deal, and although the path ahead will be challenging, we’re still committed to pursuing it. Our current estimate is that we won’t be ready to relocate until late 2026 or early 2027. As for where we’ll end up, we’re not entirely sure yet—only that it will be somewhere along the Mediterranean coast. We’re already planning a “scouting trip” to visit several cities and get a feel for what might become our future home.

Friend have asked whether it’s the political climate in the US that’s causing us to be planning this. I’d be lying if I said it had not impact, but it’s not really a primary motivation. Michael has been thinking strongly about this for over a year, well before Trump’s second administration became a possibility. If anything, it’s affecting our timeline more than it is being a cause.

There’s still plenty of research, paperwork, and planning ahead, not to mention getting rid of many years of accumulation of stuff in the house, but every step makes the move feel a little more tangible. I’m looking forward to sharing each milestone as we get closer to a Mediterranean sunrise of our own.

A Thought on Process

I find I take an engineer’s approach to my writing. I’m focused on the mechanics of what makes a salable product. I want to know the typical word count for a novel in the genre I’m intending to write. I want to know the expectations of readers in that genre so I can craft a novel that lovers of said genre will enjoy. If I know approximately how many words I need to write, and I know my average scene length (2,000 words), I know how many scenes I should plan to write. Then, as I’m laying out the key scenes, fitting them into the appropriate structure for the genre (the Three Act structure seems to be the most commonly used across multiple genres), I can see whether I already have too many subplots, or whether I need to develop additional ones. While I do outline, I don’t follow it slavishly. The story plan always changes as I write the actual scenes. But I like to know in advance that each scene is necessary, contributes to the plot, and that the major plot holes are filled in before I start the text of the manuscript.

This makes me a pariah amongst the purist writers who insist stories should arise completely organically, and that novels should be exactly long enough to tell the story that has arisen, and word count is for the editor to worry about. Ah, well.

Added a new scene to the novel, 1550 words. I still feel like this particular romantic subplot is not gelling and not fitting in with the overall story. I need to find a way for it to contribute more to the main plot. But perhaps that’s something I’ll figure out in the rewrite.

I added 2500 or so words to my current work in progress, two important scenes. Four more before I hit the midpoint of the novel. If I keep going at this rate, the midpoint will happen just shy of 50K words. A little long for a cozy, but I’ll find ways to tighten it up during edit passes.

Well, that scene got away from me a bit. I ended up writing 2360 words instead of the target of 1600. Ah well, that’s what the edit pass is for, right?

After a few days of depression and melancholy, I finally found my way back to my writing desk. As I reviewed my previous work to prepare for today’s additions, I was reminded that I enjoy my own writing. So, I added 1,100 words to my work-in-progress. I hope to finish the scene tomorrow.

I didn’t add any new words to my WIP today, sadly. Instead, I spent several hours brainstorming the plot for an entirely different post-apocalyptic fantasy novel (with a gay protagonist, naturally). As one does when they’re trying to actually finish writing a novel.

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