“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” - Henry David Thoreau
*Taps mic*
Hello? Is this thing still on?
*squeeeeeealing feedback*
Hey. Hi there, how’ve you been? We haven’t spoken in so long… I know, I know, it’s been five years since I made a peep here on this blog (five years to the day to be exact) and I guess I should start by saying, yes I’m still alive. I didn’t die or anything. I’m still out here on the inter-webs. I’m still actively creating, just in a different avenue and medium. And yes, I took a long break from writing, which is why I disappeared soon after Robin Williams left the world stage a final time, Russia invaded Ukraine, and we were about to open up the new World Trade Center.
Boy, have things changed.
But that is inevitable, right? Change is constant just like time.
Something else I knew was inevitable was my return to writing. And this is where I want to explain my long absence to everyone, which I can truly and forthrightly sum up in one single word: burnout. After writing for 20-years straight since I was eleven years old, at 31 and just publishing my first three short stories and a stand alone literary novel I felt like I had ran a marathon and I was utterly exhausted. Exhausted from the marketing side of it, the hunt for reviews and the battles with editors and proofreaders that were trying to stifle my voice and change it into something it wasn’t, the constant and masturbatory social media hype-fest, the lack of sales, the feeling of the book being more of a money pit than an investment, no readers, no reviews, doing all of this solo, and finally, my towering stack of ideas, characters, and worlds in my head and heart seemed to just topple over in a mess of words that overwhelmed me and wasn’t going anywhere anyway, causing more pain and dissatisfaction than joy. My writing life felt like a mental cul-de-sac.
Plus, I needed the change.
I consider myself more of a Creative than just a Writer anyway, though writing has a major part in that, and while I’ve been writing since I was eleven I’ve been an artist since I was five. The incredible intensity of the writing phase of my life undoubtedly overshadowed my artistic side for all those years, building up an artistic reservoir desperate for release after going mostly ignored for so long.
Now, I’m not about to start educating you about my artistic life or my artwork on here. This space is strictly for the fans of my writing, and just my writing. There’s plenty of places online with my artwork to check out if you’re interested, but I will say that in my 20-year writing phase, my art would only pop up here and there like someone emerging from the ocean gasping for air. But in these last few years of writerly absance, I’ve sharpened that creative side of myself, like the other side of an unbalanced sword, with one side sharp to the touch while the other couldn’t cut jello.
As of this writing near the end of the year and this unbelievable decade, I feel that both of those aspects of my creativity are evenly yoked, and the duality of them could bounce off of each other and work together in a creative harmony like an old school game of Pong. But, I did accomplish a lot and am extremely proud of where my art has taken me and what I’ve been able to do with it.
But what fully called me back to my writing was honestly the equivalent of flipping a coin.
I’d been spending more time with my friend and fellow writer Mike Robinson for most of 2019, who continued on with his writing life and career after I pulled over for an almost six year pit-stop, and his encouragement tickled my ear with every visit. But I had soured so much on my writing over the years, especially with the bad breakup we had, that I hadn’t even glanced at - and had mostly forgotten - the majority of my stories and ideas. But around the end of May, just before my birthday in fact, I had cracked open my computer like an old forgotten treasure chest and opened up my doc file called “Story Stack” where most of my writing waited for me.
It was a curious and mega-nostalgic feeling to see those titles of unpublished stories, like spores or seeds waiting to be planted and germinated in the Amazon jungle for new readers to discover. I opened one and scanned it, and then another, and another, and I was reminded of lost ideas and plots, and characters who came back to me like old friends, and a couple of series plans that I had completely brain dumped in lieu of the art career I was trying to construct.
And, careful me, before I had said goodbye to my stories for however long I needed, I had drawn myself something of a map to guide my future-self (i.e. Me today) to where I was planning on going with each of those tales and my writing career as a whole. It was all there, the treasure trove and a map/instruction manual to guide me to where I wanted to take this thing. I had known all along I was going to come back.
Before I re-read those long-lost volumes of my imagination - beyond the titles - I had to remind myself that this was something of a gift in the realization, because this would be the freshest my eyes would ever be for my stories. I really would be like a brand new reader to my own work after this long of time, like discovering these stories again for the first time. And after reading though just a few of them, I had to admit that maybe I was a little too harsh on my writing, and on myself. There were some pretty good ones in that file after all.
A few weeks goes by. Mike and I are chatting about writing again like old times because there was that spark of excitement in me again that I hadn’t felt in many moons. But not without a spot of apprehension either, remembering the failure and abysmal depression I felt six years ago. So, Mike suggests that I try to throw my novel on Bookbub and see what happens. Real Talk: I had been out of the loop of the writing world for so long I had completely and utterly forgotten about Bookbub and the ultimate power they welded with their literal millions of subscribers they have waiting for authors and new books.
“You never know, dude, what’s the worse that could happen?” Mike had said, “They don’t pick you?” And in Mike’s way that he does, he shrugged off the consequences with a dismissing expression. I had to admit he had a point. So…I don’t get chosen, big whoop. And in that mindset, I had decided that if I did get chosen for an email spot and it goes through smoothly, then I would treat it as something of an omen or a sign that it was time to pick up the pen again and start writing. Or at the very least, get it out to more people and gauge the reactions through reviews on here and Amazon to see if it’s worth picking up the pen again.
I think it was around June 21st I got the email that informed me that I had been chosen for a Bookbub campaign on July 15th. Prime Day. Right on the nose. Oh Heavenly light, shine down upon thee!
I don’t think the weight of it hit me until around July 4th when, after I had already paid the entry fee and got a fresh Second Edition of Do I Bother You At Night? readied and published on Amazon that the build up was starting to become a reality to me. Holy cow, my little standalone novel, Do I Bother You At Night? - my attempt at Literary Horror, the likes of The Wasp Factory, Rosemary’s Baby, IT, Swan Song, Watchers, and House of Leaves - was about to be blasted out to a LOT of people.
On July 15th, the email was sent to 1,030,000 people around the world, and I woke up to a ton of book sales for the first time in my life and my KU bar rose by the minute for the first time in years. It felt amazing to say the least, even if it was five and half years late from the original release date, but who cares? It was in people’s hands. People were actually reading my book and enjoying it. I posted about it on my Facebook and Instagram and let everyone know where I was at in the rankings on Amazon (I peaked at #8 in the Literary Horror and Horror genres, something I’ve dreamed about) and I ended up selling a lot of books and to this day I’m still getting pages read on KU and a few sales here and there.
Going into the third month since the campaign, I’m still seeing the effects that Bookbub had on my novel. I have more than doubled my reviews both on here and Amazon, sold 800 copies, and recently received the payment for those book earnings and was able to make a sizable dent in a credit card. Another first checked off my writing bucket list: sell enough so my books can pay my bills. I’m quite happy with my promotion and the results, and am eagerly awaiting the chance to do it again. I’m aiming for around February and again in Sept of 2020.
But circling back to the original headline of Thoreau’s quote, I always knew in the back of my mind that I would return to writing again. I just didn’t know when. This break could’ve gone on a lot longer had my art exploded and went viral (*snort*), but I’m still learning in that field too. I knew I needed to get some living under my belt to improve my writing, my style, and the realism of my characters too. I don’t take Thoreau’s quote lightly, and I feel there is a lot of truth in his words of standing up to live. You learn when you live. You grow. And as much as the world has changed, and is still and always changing, so am I, and so are you. Five years is a long time. It takes seven to eight years for our body’s cells to completely regenerate and then you’re basically a whole new person.
But I wanted everyone to know that’s interested, I AM writing again, so that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. Plus, I have some things in the works I’m really excited to share with you. I’m picking up where I left off the better part of a decade ago, but with a different perspective and understanding, not only of publishing and writing as a career, but of life too. In my last post five years ago TODAY I wrote a closing line that read “That's why Do I Bother You At Night? is my first effort, but it won’t be my last.” I’m here to fulfill that promise, more mature, stronger, smarter, and with a little hope, as a better writer too.
But now, I feel like it’s time to begin marrying my writing and my art together as well, blending and utilizing both sides of those creative spheres together to have them both working for me in unity. They’re evenly yoked now with regards to my talent levels and will continue to be, hopefully, over the coming years with the stories I have planned, plowing furrows of creativity with those two wild beasts leading the way as I drive them forward. Onward!
One final note, I hope all of you yourselves are doing well in whatever project, book, author, creation, or personal struggle you’re currently tackling. Life’s been hard the last few years for a lot of people. Coming back to books and fiction again has been a breath of fresh air for me in my life, and I hope and wish you the best for your personal accomplishments and trials, inside and outside the borders of literature. Also, I want thank every one of you for purchasing, reading, and reviewing my work over the years. I hope my work brings some enjoyment and distractions from your problems for a little while. And whether you loved and adored my work, or completely loathed it, thank you in any case for reading.
There’s more coming.
Hello? Is this thing still on?
*squeeeeeealing feedback*
Hey. Hi there, how’ve you been? We haven’t spoken in so long… I know, I know, it’s been five years since I made a peep here on this blog (five years to the day to be exact) and I guess I should start by saying, yes I’m still alive. I didn’t die or anything. I’m still out here on the inter-webs. I’m still actively creating, just in a different avenue and medium. And yes, I took a long break from writing, which is why I disappeared soon after Robin Williams left the world stage a final time, Russia invaded Ukraine, and we were about to open up the new World Trade Center.
Boy, have things changed.
But that is inevitable, right? Change is constant just like time.
Something else I knew was inevitable was my return to writing. And this is where I want to explain my long absence to everyone, which I can truly and forthrightly sum up in one single word: burnout. After writing for 20-years straight since I was eleven years old, at 31 and just publishing my first three short stories and a stand alone literary novel I felt like I had ran a marathon and I was utterly exhausted. Exhausted from the marketing side of it, the hunt for reviews and the battles with editors and proofreaders that were trying to stifle my voice and change it into something it wasn’t, the constant and masturbatory social media hype-fest, the lack of sales, the feeling of the book being more of a money pit than an investment, no readers, no reviews, doing all of this solo, and finally, my towering stack of ideas, characters, and worlds in my head and heart seemed to just topple over in a mess of words that overwhelmed me and wasn’t going anywhere anyway, causing more pain and dissatisfaction than joy. My writing life felt like a mental cul-de-sac.
Plus, I needed the change.
I consider myself more of a Creative than just a Writer anyway, though writing has a major part in that, and while I’ve been writing since I was eleven I’ve been an artist since I was five. The incredible intensity of the writing phase of my life undoubtedly overshadowed my artistic side for all those years, building up an artistic reservoir desperate for release after going mostly ignored for so long.
Now, I’m not about to start educating you about my artistic life or my artwork on here. This space is strictly for the fans of my writing, and just my writing. There’s plenty of places online with my artwork to check out if you’re interested, but I will say that in my 20-year writing phase, my art would only pop up here and there like someone emerging from the ocean gasping for air. But in these last few years of writerly absance, I’ve sharpened that creative side of myself, like the other side of an unbalanced sword, with one side sharp to the touch while the other couldn’t cut jello.
As of this writing near the end of the year and this unbelievable decade, I feel that both of those aspects of my creativity are evenly yoked, and the duality of them could bounce off of each other and work together in a creative harmony like an old school game of Pong. But, I did accomplish a lot and am extremely proud of where my art has taken me and what I’ve been able to do with it.
But what fully called me back to my writing was honestly the equivalent of flipping a coin.
I’d been spending more time with my friend and fellow writer Mike Robinson for most of 2019, who continued on with his writing life and career after I pulled over for an almost six year pit-stop, and his encouragement tickled my ear with every visit. But I had soured so much on my writing over the years, especially with the bad breakup we had, that I hadn’t even glanced at - and had mostly forgotten - the majority of my stories and ideas. But around the end of May, just before my birthday in fact, I had cracked open my computer like an old forgotten treasure chest and opened up my doc file called “Story Stack” where most of my writing waited for me.
It was a curious and mega-nostalgic feeling to see those titles of unpublished stories, like spores or seeds waiting to be planted and germinated in the Amazon jungle for new readers to discover. I opened one and scanned it, and then another, and another, and I was reminded of lost ideas and plots, and characters who came back to me like old friends, and a couple of series plans that I had completely brain dumped in lieu of the art career I was trying to construct.
And, careful me, before I had said goodbye to my stories for however long I needed, I had drawn myself something of a map to guide my future-self (i.e. Me today) to where I was planning on going with each of those tales and my writing career as a whole. It was all there, the treasure trove and a map/instruction manual to guide me to where I wanted to take this thing. I had known all along I was going to come back.
Before I re-read those long-lost volumes of my imagination - beyond the titles - I had to remind myself that this was something of a gift in the realization, because this would be the freshest my eyes would ever be for my stories. I really would be like a brand new reader to my own work after this long of time, like discovering these stories again for the first time. And after reading though just a few of them, I had to admit that maybe I was a little too harsh on my writing, and on myself. There were some pretty good ones in that file after all.
A few weeks goes by. Mike and I are chatting about writing again like old times because there was that spark of excitement in me again that I hadn’t felt in many moons. But not without a spot of apprehension either, remembering the failure and abysmal depression I felt six years ago. So, Mike suggests that I try to throw my novel on Bookbub and see what happens. Real Talk: I had been out of the loop of the writing world for so long I had completely and utterly forgotten about Bookbub and the ultimate power they welded with their literal millions of subscribers they have waiting for authors and new books.
“You never know, dude, what’s the worse that could happen?” Mike had said, “They don’t pick you?” And in Mike’s way that he does, he shrugged off the consequences with a dismissing expression. I had to admit he had a point. So…I don’t get chosen, big whoop. And in that mindset, I had decided that if I did get chosen for an email spot and it goes through smoothly, then I would treat it as something of an omen or a sign that it was time to pick up the pen again and start writing. Or at the very least, get it out to more people and gauge the reactions through reviews on here and Amazon to see if it’s worth picking up the pen again.
I think it was around June 21st I got the email that informed me that I had been chosen for a Bookbub campaign on July 15th. Prime Day. Right on the nose. Oh Heavenly light, shine down upon thee!
I don’t think the weight of it hit me until around July 4th when, after I had already paid the entry fee and got a fresh Second Edition of Do I Bother You At Night? readied and published on Amazon that the build up was starting to become a reality to me. Holy cow, my little standalone novel, Do I Bother You At Night? - my attempt at Literary Horror, the likes of The Wasp Factory, Rosemary’s Baby, IT, Swan Song, Watchers, and House of Leaves - was about to be blasted out to a LOT of people.
On July 15th, the email was sent to 1,030,000 people around the world, and I woke up to a ton of book sales for the first time in my life and my KU bar rose by the minute for the first time in years. It felt amazing to say the least, even if it was five and half years late from the original release date, but who cares? It was in people’s hands. People were actually reading my book and enjoying it. I posted about it on my Facebook and Instagram and let everyone know where I was at in the rankings on Amazon (I peaked at #8 in the Literary Horror and Horror genres, something I’ve dreamed about) and I ended up selling a lot of books and to this day I’m still getting pages read on KU and a few sales here and there.
Going into the third month since the campaign, I’m still seeing the effects that Bookbub had on my novel. I have more than doubled my reviews both on here and Amazon, sold 800 copies, and recently received the payment for those book earnings and was able to make a sizable dent in a credit card. Another first checked off my writing bucket list: sell enough so my books can pay my bills. I’m quite happy with my promotion and the results, and am eagerly awaiting the chance to do it again. I’m aiming for around February and again in Sept of 2020.
But circling back to the original headline of Thoreau’s quote, I always knew in the back of my mind that I would return to writing again. I just didn’t know when. This break could’ve gone on a lot longer had my art exploded and went viral (*snort*), but I’m still learning in that field too. I knew I needed to get some living under my belt to improve my writing, my style, and the realism of my characters too. I don’t take Thoreau’s quote lightly, and I feel there is a lot of truth in his words of standing up to live. You learn when you live. You grow. And as much as the world has changed, and is still and always changing, so am I, and so are you. Five years is a long time. It takes seven to eight years for our body’s cells to completely regenerate and then you’re basically a whole new person.
But I wanted everyone to know that’s interested, I AM writing again, so that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. Plus, I have some things in the works I’m really excited to share with you. I’m picking up where I left off the better part of a decade ago, but with a different perspective and understanding, not only of publishing and writing as a career, but of life too. In my last post five years ago TODAY I wrote a closing line that read “That's why Do I Bother You At Night? is my first effort, but it won’t be my last.” I’m here to fulfill that promise, more mature, stronger, smarter, and with a little hope, as a better writer too.
But now, I feel like it’s time to begin marrying my writing and my art together as well, blending and utilizing both sides of those creative spheres together to have them both working for me in unity. They’re evenly yoked now with regards to my talent levels and will continue to be, hopefully, over the coming years with the stories I have planned, plowing furrows of creativity with those two wild beasts leading the way as I drive them forward. Onward!
One final note, I hope all of you yourselves are doing well in whatever project, book, author, creation, or personal struggle you’re currently tackling. Life’s been hard the last few years for a lot of people. Coming back to books and fiction again has been a breath of fresh air for me in my life, and I hope and wish you the best for your personal accomplishments and trials, inside and outside the borders of literature. Also, I want thank every one of you for purchasing, reading, and reviewing my work over the years. I hope my work brings some enjoyment and distractions from your problems for a little while. And whether you loved and adored my work, or completely loathed it, thank you in any case for reading.
There’s more coming.
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