There was a light upon a hill I could have chosen to ascend

There was a light upon a hill I could have chosen to ascend.
But I said no, and saw the cave, and down into darkness I went to blend.
Nothing good was in that cave, or so I have surmised,
For it was slimy and slippery, it hissed and it howled, and there was no sunrise.

Into darkness I plunged myself, hiding all my fears,
When people from the hill reached out and said, “Come play and have your fill.”
I told them to go fuck themselves, but not in so many words,
With the shrug of my shoulders, an indifferent grunt, they got the hint and were gone.

They visited time to time, and though I thought I would be fine, I’m lonely here, on my own,
In the darkness, which I patrol. I thought I wanted them, I need them so bad,
But in this cave I dwell, I remain, I sit, something pathetic, something so sad.

The Void

There was a dark pit inside my soul, and it grew and it grew as people fed it so. Through loneliness, betrayal, through time and paranoia, that dark pit grew into a void, and I looked into it.

The more I looked upon that void, the more I lost focus on the world around me. The joy turned to ash, first steps bringing as much joy as the thousandth. I couldn’t see anything but that void, staring back at me, beckoning me.

The more I gazed, the more I focused on what was on the other side, what was in the abyss created in my heart. With every step towards it, I could not see the world around me, but the one within exploded.

There were battled, and characters larger than life. There was magic and people who could mitigate strife. There were gods and goddesses, beautiful moons, there was pain and some joy, but it was so far away. It could not hurt me, for I created it.

Into the abyss I walk every day, hoping to base a life around it in every way.

What I wrote in my first book

It’s been a humdinger of a week. I always hate this two week stretch as it’s the only time I work a straight 12 days, the majority of them including suits, and there are a good number of flights involved. It even comes complete with a get home Thursday night, unpack, repack, leave Friday morning. There’s a combination of mind-numbing meetings, and incredibly useful meetings, but isn’t that always the case?

However, before I left Monday, I wrote in my copy of Den of Thieves. First, I signed it. Who wouldn’t sign their own book? Oh, that’s egotistical? Well, someone needs to think I’m awesome, I’m just making up for the void. Second, I wrote in it. I wrote “1” on the front page. Then on the back I wrote, “Congrats. Now write another.”

I felt lackluster when I got published. If Tyrion Lannister was my nemesis, his revenge would be complete, for my joy turned to ash in my mouth. It did not make me feel complete, but empty. It made me feel like I was behind, that I was a dullard in a sea of geniuses, and that I would have to publish again, and again, and again.

The novel will be done this year. Unless something catastrophic happens, the editing is just going too well. By next week, I will be done with my final hard core edit, my editor will be finished with her deal in about a month, and then I’m giving a month to beta readers.

Next year I will be published in four seasonal anthologies. It will all be through the same publisher, so it will follow a story line through all of them, while still being fairly stand alone.

I will also be in a hero anthology. So five anthologies.

Once my novel is finished, I already have a rough draft for two potential novels, and the frame work for a third, so I’ll be sprinting out into that. Onto the next one, because what I published yesterday matters as much as the fly to the hippo. Cool analogy used.

Keep writing, keep dreaming, keep fighting. The world won’t give you anything, so give to those who need, and take when you see opportunity.

Denied Skills: Sewing

It was senior year of high school. I didn’t need a whole lot of classes, so there were an array of electives at my disposal, including sewing. First, I’ve always been interested in being a clothes designer. From a writing perspective, I could make the fashion of my people. From a work perspective, I think fashion design is a cool looking, glamorous lifestyle. Some of the articles of clothing created are ridiculously awesome. From a realistic perspective, my favorite dragon shirt had a hole in the pit that kept splitting and I’d like to be able to save it. It’s too late.

As I sit here with another catastrophe, my beloved Green Lantern shirt has a hole in the pit, I think back to that fateful time in high school when I told my guidance councilor, “I’d like to take sewing” as one of those numerous electives.

“That’s not really a man’s class.” Self conscious, I opted for something else. I can’t even remember what, but what I know is there is a hole in my shirt, there is a hole in a pair of pants, and because of this sexist asshole, I don’t know how to fix it. Because of him, I can’t make my own cosplay. Because of him, my career as a fashion designer came to a rigid halt. Because sewing is for girls.

Well guess what, guidance councilor? I’m not married. There’s no woman to sew for me! And even if I married any of the women I’ve been interested in, not a one of them knew how to sew. So how’s that looking on you now? When my Green Lantern shirt sleeve rips off, when I must send it away as I weep bitterly, that fabric, that dyed green fabric, it will be on your hands! Bury your head in shame, for I do not know how you will survive the immense guilt of that moment.

As for learning the skill, YouTube rocks pretty hardcore. That’s how I learned to tie a tie. How much harder can sewing be?

I’m an Amazon Author

I kind of feel like Pinocchio, and my wish to become a real author has come true. That’s right, I’ve got no more wood! Wait, yes I do… Anyway.

I’m an Amazon Author. It was quick and painless. It’s exciting and blurs the lines of reality and fantasy. It makes me think I could do this. It makes me feel like it’s possible! Then I see only one book next to my profile picture and all my egotistical throes are slaughtered in one bludgeon from the mighty Mjolner of reality.

It’s still pretty awesome. You can see my page here. If you follow, you’ll find my blog posts and tweets. I have a short bio, a cool picture of me on the Guatemala River, and one book. Maybe that’s why I’m not celebrating? There’s only one. Some of these guys I wrote alongside are on four or five. Time to pick up the pace.

Anyway, I hope your own journeys, in writing, life, love, existentialism, are all shaping up well.

Published: Den of Thieves

Hey guys. I’m published. Den of Thieves can be purchased on Amazon and other places. When hard copies are available, it’ll actually list me as an author. Tomorrow night my mission will be create an Amazon author page.

Every penny will go to the World Literacy Foundation, so even if the stories suck, please look into it for the sake of children all over who do not have the opportunity to learn to read when it’s so important in our global economy.

The downside? While everyone else is immensely excited about being published, for whatever reason my eyes are glued to the next story. I’m glad this is out there, I look forward to putting up an Amazon author page, but otherwise I just can’t seem to celebrate it. Maybe the next story…. Not a vicious cycle at all.

That Editing Itch

With a chapter edited today, some cleaning under my belt, I thought, “I think I’ll read or play video games, then go to bed.”

“No!” said my book. “Love me!”

“But I did already. We spent an hour and a half together. I got through a full chapter.”

“Full chapter? There’s twenty seven of me. Get it in gear!”

How do you say no? Just better shut up in an hour. I need to be up early.