When It's Still Bleeding . . .
So, I completely disappeared for a while. I know, I know. It came from nowhere. Trust me when I say my life hit a sudden tailspin. I didn’t plan on it and it capsized me as quickly as I vanished from view. It happened for two reasons.
First and foremost, I lost myself in a new project. I wrote a second book and it is done, whole and completed. So, I spent a lot of my time doing that so I could have a shot at selling a book to a publisher by the end of the year. My typing, emotions, shadows and imagination got lost there first and foremost. I did it at a crazy pace, something like 4500-5500 words a day. When the night came, I didn’t have the energy to muster any sort of blog or appearance. On top of the pace, the book took me to some challenging places personally. Emotionally, psychologically, cognitively and even spiritually . . . the project tested me. It made me face a lot of things, what I thought I saw in the sky, what I thought I saw in myself. I also felt closer to these character than any others I’ve created and that’s saying something. I usually find myself pretty broken over what happens to the people and worlds I create. I was painfully close to Gabby in “The Big Red Devil.” So, for me to say that I was broken over what happened to Reese, Jack and Paige Pradly in the new book is a pretty big nod to the power of the story–I think, anyway.
It made me answer a lot of questions about what I think of God, his presence, absence or existence . . . all that was pretty heavy subject matter and at the end of the day, my brain was mush. The book was a challenge, a grueling sprawl . . . it was a war, a brutal battle. I came out the other side as, what I feel is, a better man. I’m sending it to publishers this week. So, stay tuned for updates on that!
Secondly, and probably even worse, my wife and I have separated. I don’t know what the cliches are about speaking on it publicly, but it is what it is. I won’t hide from it and it feels good to own with my own words. The sprawling internal challenge of the book coupled with the end of my marriage was a lot to bear. So, the time passed . . . my fingers stayed still. I didn’t type. I didn’t write. I didn’t do much but drink, hug my daughter, plan and work through things. In it all, my wife and I have stayed friends, family. I think that’s the best part. I have a greater friend than I ever thought possible. It’s difficult to understand at times, but her and I have it sorted out. It makes sense to us and that’s all that matters. We’ll have some difficult questions to answer when my daughter gets a little older, but that’s a responsibility we have agreed to meet. We’d rather accept that burden than continue the way we were going, the place we were heading.
Journeys end, they begin . . . the rocks along their roads are always more narrow at the end, afraid to fall and make mistakes, places to break, doomed in finality and consequences. At the beginning of those journeys, the roads are always open and endless. The goal now is make sure that the beginning of my new trek is as open and wonderful as my last one started. Somewhere along the line, we lost that wonder. We lost it to the struggle within ourselves, lost it to what we were. We did things that killed it, all the joy, doomed and bleeding where we left it.
Life happens and some times you fuck it up. When the wound is still bleeding, you make sure that you never let that wound happen again. I won’t, I can promise you that.
In closing, I think that’s what I’ve earned in these winds of change. I’ve earned the knowledge that consequences must be shouldered. Stories can’t continue to blow up and balloon like the comic books. When you do things, you have to account for them. Just like a character that has to die in a book, you have to live with what you write, what you do.
I’m doing that and for the first time in a LONG time . . . I’m okay with that. I’m okay with consequences because it means that somewhere I can start over. I can start over in a place where I can keep all the wonder and joy away from the consequences I bore, the scabs that I’ll never let heal so I can remember the road and all its scars like a map to a place I’ll never return to–the black at the edges of the map that I’ll never sail into again.
Cheers. See you around the bend.
First and foremost, I lost myself in a new project. I wrote a second book and it is done, whole and completed. So, I spent a lot of my time doing that so I could have a shot at selling a book to a publisher by the end of the year. My typing, emotions, shadows and imagination got lost there first and foremost. I did it at a crazy pace, something like 4500-5500 words a day. When the night came, I didn’t have the energy to muster any sort of blog or appearance. On top of the pace, the book took me to some challenging places personally. Emotionally, psychologically, cognitively and even spiritually . . . the project tested me. It made me face a lot of things, what I thought I saw in the sky, what I thought I saw in myself. I also felt closer to these character than any others I’ve created and that’s saying something. I usually find myself pretty broken over what happens to the people and worlds I create. I was painfully close to Gabby in “The Big Red Devil.” So, for me to say that I was broken over what happened to Reese, Jack and Paige Pradly in the new book is a pretty big nod to the power of the story–I think, anyway.
It made me answer a lot of questions about what I think of God, his presence, absence or existence . . . all that was pretty heavy subject matter and at the end of the day, my brain was mush. The book was a challenge, a grueling sprawl . . . it was a war, a brutal battle. I came out the other side as, what I feel is, a better man. I’m sending it to publishers this week. So, stay tuned for updates on that!
Secondly, and probably even worse, my wife and I have separated. I don’t know what the cliches are about speaking on it publicly, but it is what it is. I won’t hide from it and it feels good to own with my own words. The sprawling internal challenge of the book coupled with the end of my marriage was a lot to bear. So, the time passed . . . my fingers stayed still. I didn’t type. I didn’t write. I didn’t do much but drink, hug my daughter, plan and work through things. In it all, my wife and I have stayed friends, family. I think that’s the best part. I have a greater friend than I ever thought possible. It’s difficult to understand at times, but her and I have it sorted out. It makes sense to us and that’s all that matters. We’ll have some difficult questions to answer when my daughter gets a little older, but that’s a responsibility we have agreed to meet. We’d rather accept that burden than continue the way we were going, the place we were heading.
Journeys end, they begin . . . the rocks along their roads are always more narrow at the end, afraid to fall and make mistakes, places to break, doomed in finality and consequences. At the beginning of those journeys, the roads are always open and endless. The goal now is make sure that the beginning of my new trek is as open and wonderful as my last one started. Somewhere along the line, we lost that wonder. We lost it to the struggle within ourselves, lost it to what we were. We did things that killed it, all the joy, doomed and bleeding where we left it.
Life happens and some times you fuck it up. When the wound is still bleeding, you make sure that you never let that wound happen again. I won’t, I can promise you that.
In closing, I think that’s what I’ve earned in these winds of change. I’ve earned the knowledge that consequences must be shouldered. Stories can’t continue to blow up and balloon like the comic books. When you do things, you have to account for them. Just like a character that has to die in a book, you have to live with what you write, what you do.
I’m doing that and for the first time in a LONG time . . . I’m okay with that. I’m okay with consequences because it means that somewhere I can start over. I can start over in a place where I can keep all the wonder and joy away from the consequences I bore, the scabs that I’ll never let heal so I can remember the road and all its scars like a map to a place I’ll never return to–the black at the edges of the map that I’ll never sail into again.
Cheers. See you around the bend.
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