What Was I Thinking?

Copyright 2014 by John Urbancik.

Dark Fantasy author John Urbancik, who is one of my closest friends, took this pic of me one morning in Portland six weeks ago. A few hours after it was taken, I was presented with the Grand Master Award. (You can read a transcript of my acceptance speech here). John told me I could use it for my new publicity photo, and I will, since my last official publicity photo was taken when the movie version of GHOUL came out, and I’ve changed a bit since then (the beard for starters).

I posted the pic on social media yesterday, and a number of people on Facebook, Twitter, Whosay, and elsewhere asked me what I was thinking when John snapped the shot. Well, I’ll tell you what I was thinking…

I was thinking about money, and how it fluctuates, and how royalty checks and advances are like dipping your hands in a mountain stream. I was thinking about how your cupped hands are initially full, and so is your belly as you take a deep drink, but very quickly, the water slips between your fingers, leaving your hands empty. And soon enough, your belly is empty, too. I was thinking about how writers get paid, and how financial security seems to elude the vast majority of us. I was thinking about whether or not I could afford to take my girlfriend out to eat after I got the award that night. I was thinking that it was time to re-think how I’m doing business, and actually start doing business again.

I was thinking about the group of writers I started out with, and who was still around, and who wasn’t, and who had made it, and who hadn’t, and if there was anything else I could do to help those who hadn’t, and if so, what. I was thinking about the peculiar form of guilt that comes with success, and how you can pull for others until your fingers bleed, but at the end of the day, it’s up to them and luck. I was thinking that you cannot control luck and you cannot control others, but you can control your own misplaced guilt, and decide that you’re allowed to be happy with what you’ve accomplished.

I was thinking about those accomplishments, and how my son and his mother and my peers and my friends and my girlfriend and my girlfriend’s family had all said how proud they were of my accomplishments, and the award, but that the people who I’d wanted to hear it from the most made their indifference clear, and how that sucked. And then I thought about how I’m 46-years old, and I’ve already written GHOUL, so fuck that noise. I was thinking you can be a disappointment to others, as long as you’re not a disappointment to yourself.

I was thinking about how it had been a very long time since I’d written a full novel. I was thinking about how the last full novel was ENTOMBED, and that was written in 2009. I was thinking about how CLICKERS VS. ZOMBIES, THE DAMNED HIGHWAY, and SIXTY-FIVE STIRRUP IRON ROAD didn’t count, because I didn’t write them by myself. I was thinking about how five-years worth of nonsense, starting with a heart attack, a divorce, and the epic Dorchester clusterfuck and ending most recently with more health problems and an uninhabitable post-storm home and a very-real case of PTSD, had really wreaked havoc on not only my ability to write, but on my confidence overall. I was thinking about how I focused on getting the backlist back into print again, and tried my hand at producing a movie, and writing comic books, all in an effort to lie to myself that I was busy with other things, when the truth was, I was meant to be writing novels. I was thinking about how I’d failed to heed my own advice, given time and time again, about writer’s block, and how it’s nothing more than an excuse, and yeah, maybe the excuse was I felt washed up and tired and didn’t have the drive to do it anymore, but fuck that noise, they’re giving me a Grand Master Award, and a few moments ago I was thinking about how it would be nice to not be broke for a change, so maybe I’d better face down my fucking fears and start typing some shit again. I was thinking about getting home, and tackling things realistically, and getting out from under a few deadlines (done), and then taking care of manuscripts and Lifetimers (now), and then mailing packages to people who are owed packages and sorting out the technical issues with the forum that prevent me from joining you (next) and then nailing the rest of the deadlines (after next).

I was thinking about how I’m almost 50, and that’s actually pretty cool, and about what a long, fucked-up trip it’s been, and about how that trip isn’t near finished yet, and about how yeah, maybe I did pull into a Rest Stop for five years and fell asleep in the bathroom as an excuse not to write, but it was time to get back on the bike and see the rest of the road.

So I did. And have been doing so for the last six weeks.

That’s what I was thinking when John took the picture. Thanks for asking.