It’s a peculiar thought, and it’s one that nags away at me from time to time.

Am I comfortable NOT being published?

If NOT published, am I comfortable because my work is NOT being judged?

If NOT published, am I just too comfortable playing the part of a struggling artist?

Is the chair upon which I sit just too comfortable?

It’s not pathological, it’s something deeper, something primal, something base from the very depths of your soul, and it needs, no it demands satisfaction.

Titbits are cast aside, what once may have placated the desire, what were once acceptable distractions baubles and trinkets, these no longer sooth the raging inferno that burns within.

Needs are screaming, sustenance for this ravenous beast can be ignored no more.

Denial, obfuscation, mirrors and shadows, half-truths and clever lies, their power is fading.

Impassioned pleas MUST be met.

Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of success… 

A bare breast is beaten, a pounding heart thumps, naked eyes reveal the true depth of the soul, vulnerability is unashamed…

Tales need reading, stories need to be told.

Breath needs to be stolen, and a little laughter heard too.

Reasons against have lost their lustre.

The two wolves have stopped fighting, the dust is settling, and a victor is emerging…

By means fair or indeed foul, Amy Grace is coming.

Buckle up, strap in tight, the ride will be wild, but so worth it!

Stay safe and remain sane!

This could be a momentous moment hitting this marker in my blog, entry number 151 could be a statement of so many things, and in a way it is.  I’ve persevered, I’ve kept the faith, ignored the nay sayers and retained belief in my project.

Post #1 back in June 2017 acknowledged the potential for this entire process to be nothing more than self-indulgence.

I don’t often quote myself, but this from #1 still holds true:

I suppose I see this blog as kind of akin to being given access to a great palatial auditorium, yet one in which you will have to speak confidently into a darkened room – maybe people are out there in the cheap seats listening – maybe they’re not.  But if you don’t speak, you’ll never know…

I’ve tripped, stumbled, and committed more than a few faux pas along the journey.  Ideas that were written down in the firm belief that they were perfection personified have been either heavily amended, or indeed suffered under the editors cut.

We’ve learnt some powerful lessons thus far. 

On my wall I’ve a framed copy of Theodore Roosevelt’s “Man in The Arena” speech.  It wasn’t written for writers, wasn’t written all those years ago as a cleverly placed egg for me to discover, but boy is it relevant and uplifting.

“…who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

Version #1 of my favourite tall tale has improved over the years, the telling has evolved, the journey still pulls on your heartstrings, still makes you cry…  and I’m immensely proud of that.

The easiest reference I have for Amy Grace is still in drawing parallels with ‘Lisbeth Salander’ in the world of ‘Sally Lockhart.’   We have this baseline upon which we’ve added a layer of steampunk and a healthy dose of magic, fairy tales and Celtic folklore. 

The tales pull no punches, but it doesn’t exploit, trivialise, or try to use suffering as a form of spank bank entertainment.  Cruelty is shown for what it is, resilience too.  Recovery is a theme that weaves through all (currently five) volumes of Amy’s tale.  She is a flawed woman, but understandably so.  She isn’t a two-dimensional character dependent upon rescue, she is her own woman (Bechdel and Mako Mori take a bow).  And those bad folk, those who are the villains, these aren’t mustachio twirling caricatures either.  Our main villain is cruel, sadistically so, but he finds love, finds loss, and finds a path to redemption too.

Amy Grace and her struggles, her journey, her loves, and her losses, all these we have catalogued, all these we have told. 

My tales aren’t perfection, aren’t stories that will forever change your life and have you shaving your head while living in a remote log cabin – lit candles and incantations.  These aren’t entry level cult material, but they are captivating and entertaining – oh, I didn’t see that coming tall tales that once you start you will just have to, absolutely must see what happens next.

And therein lies my perennial problem. 

Nobody’s read them.

Well, some friends family and strangers have – my heartfelt thanks go to them all. 

All who all now look at me with a somewhat quizzical and wary eye – WTF, how/why from where did you imagine that?!?   

This pool has been relatively small, but feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. 

I have options to improve my lot, choices to make in order to bring Amy to a wider audience, and on these issues, I worry, overthink, and stumble.

For those from the outside looking in, some may be screaming away the obvious answer, the clear solution to my problems – hopefully, I’ll see it soon too. 

I ended post #1 thanking the darkened auditorium for sharing the journey with me, and to those of you still sitting out there in the cheap seats, or to those who’ve stumbled upon my musings – THANK YOU.

Keep the faith, stay safe and remain sane!

A popular (by that I mean reoccurring) theme in my scribbles, be it either here on this blog, or in my tall tales, is that I references popular music (by that I mean music I like).

I’ve referenced songs by bands as varied as Ladysmith Black Mambazo singing about the beauty of rain, The Meteors and the battle between Ford cars and tractors, and innumerable hats have been tipped to New Model Army, and lately a healthy dose of references to Bauhaus. 

In fact, I write directly in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice about nobody in the tale getting the obvious ‘Bella Lugosi’ joke, I come back to it a few times as the main character mutters away in disbelief that nobody else can see it…  

Will folk ‘get them,’ and if they do, will they allow a wry smile, a slight nod of the head and an inner chuckle to break out?

I hope so.

I add these not to distract from the tale being told, but because they just fit the narrative and scream to be included.

So, if you see them, if you suspect you’ve seen them, fear not, madness is not this way coming, what you thought you saw indeed, you did.

Enjoy, keep the faith, stay safe and remain sane. 

Somehow, despite any conspiring forces I’m feeling good.

Scribbling is going well (multiple plates are still spinning).

The love affair with writing remains.

Some said it wouldn’t last – but here we are still enjoying each other.

The great announcement still alludes us, but onwards we joyfully plod.

Keep the faith, stay safe and remain sane!

We all do it.

Anniversaries pass and we indulge.

Navals are gazed.

Options taken debated.

A score card, formal or otherwise, is created.

We judge what has been and we contemplate what may be.

Is there a cut off mandated by the passage of a specific period of time?

If those rejections pass a certain number is cease and desist the only option?

Our fist step was taken in 2009.

The world was a different place back then.

Aspirations were just to write a good opening line – nothing more.

From that we drafted a book, a tale we called Sisyphus’s Burden (and of this I’m proud).

This tale was only ever cathartic, and for that aim it most certainly was.

Then we had a debate around Goths and Steampunk and Amy Grace took shape.

Strange beginnings indeed for the saga that grew.

Amy, we thought had merit.

Amy, we polished beyond draft one.

Incarnations came, ideas went.

Amy, we offered to the world, and the world has thus far said NO.

Truthfully, objectively I still believe in Amy.

My joy at telling her tale remains.

Maybe it’s me.

Probably.

My applications poorly applied…

The fire still burns bright.

Deluded (or not) I will continue.

I only need ONE yes.

Stay safe and remain sane!

The calendar year ends, and as is customary rumination abounds.

Was it all it should have been?

The appalling cliché surfaces ‘were lessons learnt’?

World domination didn’t materialise.

Output wasn’t what we wanted.

Tales were told, but stumbles outnumbered pages.

Rejections continued.

Aspiration remains.

We will cogitate, and we will continue.

Adjustments will be made.

Maybe we’ll succeed?

Maybe.

Whatever happens we’ll keep trying, keep typing.

Keep the faith, stay safe & remain sane.

As scribblers we thirst for feedback.

We are dogs with two tails when praise is given, unbounded joy exudes our very core.

Just was we shine when told we are a ‘good dog,’ so too does our universe collapse when told we’ve been a ‘bad dog’.

Oh, that critique, ouch that comment, the pain, the very light of existence hurts, and into the shadows we must return…

I’ve had some good, some indifferent shrugs, and some near character assassinations.

All in their own way correct.

Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder.

Some love modern jazz – I don’t.

Does that negate this music because it’s not for me?

It’s not for me, let the musicians paly on, let others enjoy it.

And so it is, so it must be with tales that are told.

Some will like it, some won’t, and some will be happily indifferent.

You cannot create art with the sole intention of pleasing the masses – for the crowd is notoriously fickle, what they like today they will loathe tomorrow!

It’s not to say criticism doesn’t have merit, of course it does.

I wrote a few pages, and the negativity was universal – the opinions trusted, those bits removed.

I’ve written other passages that have been a bit ‘Marmite’ and that’s okay too.

I write to be read, to be enjoyed, but never to satisfy the whims of a committee.

Some live their life to take down any who try, some rejoice when those who attempt fall short – somehow it justifies the shallowness of their own existence.

Some are indeed professionally bitter.

But as a writer, a teller of tall tales, a scribbler of debatable ability, I console myself with that wonderous quote:  

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

― Theodore Roosevelt

In short if you like my tale, I thank you, if you don’t then that’s okay too.

I’m a big boy I can take it.

I’m not now nor will I ever want to be one of those cold and timid souls…

Write your tale, tell your story, enjoy and relish your art – it has merit!  

Stay safe & remain sane!

Reading and re reading your own scribble can be cathartic, it can also be terrifying too!

At times you roll your shoulders back that little bit, elevate your head a smidge and contemplate a self-satisfied nod to yourself on job well done.

This you do on occasion.

But for every Yin, there is also a Yang.

You’d punch your own face, but you fear that like your writing that you’d miss the mark…

You do this occasionally too.

Somewhere between the two reactions sits the truth.

Maybe it’s closer to the missed punch, or indeed it could be sitting on the shoulder of the smug smile (it could be!).

The answer, the only measure that counts, that has validity, is that of your readership.

And this you know; this is the knife that continually twists.

You have no readers.

Of all the truths, this one cuts the deepest, hurts the most.

You’ve scribbled, crossed out, scrubbed out, re written and scribbled anew in attempts to polish your text.

Maybe it sits as good now as it is ever going to be – maybe.

But you’ll never know.

You have no readers.

And your attempts have thus far all failed.

Reality check, or perseverance test?

Who knows?

Stay safe and remain sane.