Category: Oh For Goodness Sake

2021 Content/Art/Poetry Projects/Internet of Words/Oh For Goodness Sake/Patreon/Short Stories

Things We Lost in the Fire

Yes, I’m still here 😀

There is, unsurprisingly, a PHENOMENAL amount to catch up on. For those of you who don’t read the front page, husband and son were diagnosed as Covid positive at the start of December. Both were phenomenally careful and did everything they should have done when outside, but with a son in his early 20’s at college and a husband making regular trips into London on business, it shouldn’t really be a surprise they came into contact with infection. As of right now I’ve been tested twice, and been negative both times. It still could happen, and we weren’t taking any chances… and now that possibility is significantly reduced.

Over Christmas the original domain linked with this site before IoW came into being has lapsed, and as a result a large portion of old links require an update. It’s on the To Do list with a lot of cleaning up, which will happen quietly and without fuss in the next few weeks. The missing short stories will also be added, plus a number of other things retired and removed with the minimum of fuss. In their place, I’ll be highlighting content that’s been produced elsewhere, placing a greater focus on my exercise and mental health issues, and how the two are now pretty much inextricably linked.

I’m looking forward to the new direction we’ll take as a result.

A lot of my working process has altered during the break, with a far greater emphasis on Patreon as the way forward. It seems the right moment to start taking this stuff seriously, and with the very real possibility we’ll be in lockdown in the UK until March? I suddenly have a lot more free time than was previously anticipated. There’s some experimental things on the table, and I’m already playing about with ideas, which you’ll see being developed as time goes on.

There’s also the return of the Short Story to Twitter, plus going forward I’ll be working on photography and poetry mini-projects on this platform. Right now however my attention’s focussed on hitting some January submission deadlines and preparing other, quite major works for later in the year. There’s a lot potentially to do, and right now nothing is off the table. I have a lot of back catalogue from last year just asking to be freshened and reenergised, after all…

Give it a few weeks, and it’ll be like I never left…

General Writing Post/Mental Health/Nerd Culture/Oh For Goodness Sake/Writing Projects

Fairytale

Quite early on in my online career, it became apparent that other people expected significantly different things from relationships than I did. Inevitably, it is impossible to reasonably control who decides to follow you, or indeed how they operate when interacting with you. Being kind, generous and understanding should be the default settings for everybody but inevitably this becomes unrealistic in reality.

I’ve spoken at length in other places over the issues that inevitably rise from being female and high profile in any kind of gaming capacity. Earlier this year, when asked if I’d want to talk about that in public, there was really no desire to do so. Pulling up past events as a signpost to the future might be useful in certain situations, but in this case…? it’s probably best that these sections of my history are consigned to obscurity.

Except, it is apparent, these issues never really go away.

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There’s been a bit of drama around my sphere of late over the business of online stalking. Knowing that it doesn’t matter what you do and that sometimes, people will latch onto you as some kind of personal saviour, is the lesson I wish more would take seriously but inevitably never do. Inevitably, enlightenment has to come from learning the lesson: you don’t even have to be generous to a stranger in reality to become a victim.

In fact, many people are learning that just existing and refusing to think or act as others expect they should is often enough to receive abuse. So many women in high-profile positions run the risk of becoming the fixation, crux of increasingly demented obsession, because other people’s perception of their personality is as far away from reality as it is normally possible to get.

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So, what can you do if you’re caught in a situation that makes you uncomfortable? Even as an obscure writer, there are ways and means to assert control. The most important thing of all, undoubtedly, is to not generate personal capital off the back of it or to allow the individual any indicator that their actions are affecting your existence. In that regard, at least, it is very easy to take back ownership of personal domain.

That last lesson is still one I’m working on, it has to be said.

Internet of Words/Oh For Goodness Sake/Poetry/Writing Projects

Enough is Enough

No, really, I need to ask the question: just how much effort into a piece is ‘enough’?

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To my right, in a pile, is a bunch of poems being edited. When I was writing End of the Fear and only my own standards needed to be fulfilled, editing seemed considerably less stressful. Was that because of the work being easier to create, or the process not being dictated by what other people would think, I wonder? Is there too much general worry over the end quality of my output?

More and more, the answer to this question is YES.

I’ve read pages of advice over how to make my work shine, on the inner voice that needs to be nurtured, on umpteen differing styles and approaches, and yet none of this is able to assuage that creeping, terrifying sense that however had you edit, it simply won’t be enough. Impostor Syndrome’s in an increasing list of external factors that weigh down my output, and needs to be dealt with alongside everything else.

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Releasing myself from the tyranny of validation certainly helps make the poetry flow, but then how much editing is enough to produce something I think is worthwhile? It’s the classic ‘how long is a piece of string’ argument, I suppose: if I was being taught and the teacher covered my work in corrections, would that be what was needed? If the voice is strong enough, and there’s enough confidence in the finished product, that should be enough.

Increasingly however, as stuff is rejected, that’s not the case. You’re forced into a situation where there is no real sense of what is right or wrong, and you have to hope that what is on the page is enough. If you’re not writing in the style a random person decides is what they’re looking for, what can you do? In the end, there is very little to do but just keep working and hoping that eventually your style will intersect with someone else’s interest.

Unless of course there’s some magic that I’m missing along the way…

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I’ll be back to poetry next week: for now, it’s time to start gearing up for my trip to Leeds…

#EndOfTheFear/Oh For Goodness Sake/Poetry/Writing Projects

Money Money Money

In the next blog post you’ll read, I’ll begin detailing a project which I’ll be working on without being paid. All of this: the website, hours of work, dozens of poems… I’m not paid for any of it. The single contest I’ve won, thus far, reimbursed me the ten quid train fare bought when I went to perform the poem live. A number of people have generously donated cash, over the last year… but no, I make nothing long-term as a writer at present.

Why on earth begin a major project when there’s nothing for me at the end of it?

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I am incredibly lucky with my personal circumstances, no doubt about it. There is a level of financial stability to do multiple things at once right now without major concern: the biggest single issue encountered, without fail, is finding the hours in order to complete anything major. It requires considerable planning and effort, something I’ve been mentally unable to complete until now. 

Success has for many years equated to the need to provide a pay-cheque at the end. If you’re not making money, you can’t be successful, and yup, that’s true to a point. Except, to be noticed and get a chance at publication in a marketplace saturated with other writers, you need to be very, very good. What happens therefore when you just want to create something that makes you happy, keeps you busy, and can give people enjoyment?

Should it even matter that I make money for everything that’s produced?

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This upcoming project was never designed to make me rich, but as a means by which I could show capability of producing content to a specific timescale, with my rules and objectives. The overriding point isn’t to get rich, but to be happy and give back to my home town something intangible. It’s not about cash, because in the end I’d be doing all of this regardless, for my own benefit. This is a personal labour of love.

In a world increasingly obsessed with capitalism, writing without a pay-cheque becomes less of an issue over time. My enjoyment, ultimately, is grasped in the production of work, the process of creation. Effort in promoting, multiple attempts to find anyone interested in publication, ceaseless parade of submissions and rejections doesn’t make me happy. Writing makes me happy.

This project is about making me happy.

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Now motivation is out of the way, it’s time to consider inspiration.

Art/Poetry Projects/Internet of Words/Oh For Goodness Sake/Poetry/Writing Projects

Right Now

This week, I acted on instinct for the first time in a while.

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There are a PHENOMENAL number of online portals, websites and magazines that take submissions. A magazine such as Mslexia will give a vital insight into such places, but it is only the tip of a considerable iceberg. Countless places exist to send work to, but perilously few will pay you for the effort. It is, in certain lights, a poisoned chalice of effort versus reward.

Occasionally however I’m not here for the cash. There are moments when you just want to write summat for the sake of writing: this week, the day after my first successful counselling session, I needed to believe that writing remains enjoyable for the hell of it. So, I sat down and wrote three poems. Just like that. BOOM. Then, I stared at them for a bit and was really very happy with what had resulted.

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One of them, it must be said, had been written in a rough form whilst waiting in the counselling office. I feel this is a theme going forward, that it might be nice to do one a week for the next three months because if all else fails, that’s a collection right there. Then, they sat around for a day, as is the idea, before coming back for polish. After that, they were printed out, put in an envelope with a stamped-addressed return one for acknowledgement, and then posted.

That was an odd feeling: walking to the letterbox, sending my work away, not knowing when I’d hear a reply. Having to watch for my own letter’s return, I have to say, is considerably more exciting than anticipating failure via an e-mail. I’m far less likely to get upset too, amazingly, because this just feels like a better way to fail. If my poem from the waiting room makes it, of course, I’m one short for the collection…

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Should that actually come to pass, I reckon I’d cope.

Art/Poetry Projects/General Writing Post/Oh For Goodness Sake/Site Admin/Writing Projects

Hard Habit to Break

Okay, it’s official. I need a break from poetry.

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That’s not strictly true, but it’s close. It’s become impossible to throw my brain into poetry mode at present, and the last time this happened a month’s break was EXACTLY what was needed to reset the gauges. A lot of this is wrapped around the two major submissions I’m now finishing up, both of which have poetry as their core. It is time to return to fiction as my life for March, which means the following:

  • No new weekly Haiku or Micropoetry until April, but we’ll repost some of my Greatest Hits whilst also trailing upcoming projects for the rest of 2019,
  • #Narrating needs a break too, so I can stock up some better ideas going forward. #Soundtracking however will celebrate the upcoming 14th birthday of my daughter with a list of bands I think she’ll appreciate going forward into adulthood,
  • The Short Story continues unabated. Because DUH. 

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That leaves a gap for content here which I’ll fill by getting EX/WHI up to date whilst simultaneously filling in details of some of the things I’d like to do with my writing and this site by the end of the year. It also allows the much-needed opportunity to get Gumroad up and running, so I can sell stuff to you to allow that journey to more comfortably take place. That’s probably the most important thing of all to get properly organised next month.

Thank you for your support and understanding during the first two months of this year, and here’s to the next ten.

Blogging for Noobs/Here is the News/Oh For Goodness Sake/Writing Projects

Another One Bites the Dust

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It was coming. There shouldn’t be any surprise at all, on reflection, and (quite usefully) this latest piece of news was learnt after I’d done the incredibly mentally draining ‘thing’ for the day and therefore, it couldn’t make anything worse. Nobody wants to be told they’re not good enough, especially in the current climate. Rejection’s an inevitable part of the writing process, and people deal with that differently. For me, it is normally quite funny, especially if (as was the case this time) it is accompanied by a staggeringly generic ‘we’re sorry you didn’t win and we can’t tell you why but WELL DONE ANYWAY’ email.

Today however it made me quite angry.

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Most contests are lotteries for one reason alone: the people you’re trying to impress. It’s not like you’re judged to a standard either: if we all had to write twelve haiku, three acrostics and only in dactyls, before doing it again in evening wear whilst solving world hunger, it might be different. Everybody’s got their own idea of what is ‘good’ with half an eye on the marketplace: knowing what will sell, what they can promote, who are the current on trend writers driving tastes.

It might be unpalatable to some, but this is business just like games and films and art, and if you get lucky and mesh with someone, it is no guarantee of instant or long term success. You could well spend your entire time entering contests or funding your own work and not one person will know who you are until you die and someone discovers your legacy. That happens, and knowing this is probably a huge influence on why any negative emotion is always short lived, then transformed into something far more useful.

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I don’t get the satisfaction of fame after my demise. I’m here now, loving every moment whilst simultaneously railing at sanctimony that undoubtedly accompanies a lot of writers who feel they are somehow owed something for their struggle. Nobody owes you anything. This should not be about the commercial success you obtain from your effort. If you aren’t here to do this for enjoyment and satisfaction in the first instance, I have to say, you’re on a hiding to nothing, unless you are spectacularly lucky, and trust me when I say I know how unlikely that is ever going to be.

Sure you can make a living as a writer, and lots of people do, but not without a phenomenal amount of hard work, savings, second jobs, support from family, understanding friends and that’s even before luck gets introduced into the equation. For me, coming up for nearly two years of doing this properly, there’s the knowledge that success is not at all tied to someone else liking your work. You have to be learning, adapting and refining, constantly exercising brain and words together. It is like exercise, only without the lumpy bits and sweaty gym kit.

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There will be WTF moments too: some are brilliant, others will test your diplomacy skills. However, there is but one thing to remember when in such situations: be kind. Nobody likes a smartarse, or someone overly full of their own importance. Just be polite, honest and think before you speak. This bit is like being on the Internet right now, and knowing that sometimes the best thing you can do for everybody is just let the stupid pass you by. With #MeToo very much on the radar, the lines that shouldn’t be crossed are even more defined.

Seriously, just be a decent human being about all of this. You fail, you lick your wounds, then up you get and start again. If writing matters enough, you move past the rejection and use it as fuel, propelling you forward.

When you do fail, remember you’re not alone.

General Writing Post/Here is the News/Oh For Goodness Sake/Wondrous Stories/Writing Projects

The Lark, Ascending.

It is only now becoming apparent how much has changed around these parts in the last year. Some of it has been dictated by circumstance, other bits are a consequence of hard work and application. 2018 is the year I learnt to love poetry, a format that was previously pretty much ignored. It begs the question of what 2019 will be about, and that some thought ought to be placed as to the broadening of horizons.

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There’s already half a plan to do some video blogging. The new phone camera’s going to get some use. I still harbour a desire to do the whole Fanzine thing that Arguto was set up for… and the list goes on. Obviously there’s been the discussion over self-publishing, and then comes the possibility that if I can get more than one of my failed fiction projects both finished and edited, that it could be sent to publishers.

The biggest problem, right now, is finishing those projects. Having abandoned this year’s NaNo because there simply is no time, finding the opportunity to edit and write long form is something that needs to be addressed, and so the problem’s being approached in the exact same fashion as my various issues with exercise. There’s a planner on the wall, I have a deadline, and it’s being worked towards in a methodical fashion.

Once the current project is finished, we’ll go onto the next thing.

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That’s the most significant advance of all: getting items completed to a standard that is acceptable, sending them away, and then watching them come back. Rejection is not nearly as painful as has been anticipated, as the year has gone on. Each piece sent away was complete, finished, to a standard I was happy with, and as they return they will be ‘polished’ again before being sent out to different places.

Poetry as a short form provides the revelation of confidence in content. Not completing NaNo this year is the acceptance of too much long form work left unfinished. It is a slow, measured grasp of my ability as a writer, and what needs to change in the next twelve months to allow all forms of work the correct environments to thrive and survive. There is a way forward, that will now provide a new approach to writing and working.

This is an extremely exciting time ahead.

#Narrating2018/Here is the News/Internet of Words/Oh For Goodness Sake/Wondrous Stories/Writing as Therapy/Writing Projects

Things We Lost in the Fire

Sometimes, I take things WAY too seriously. It’s been like this for decades, too: it isn’t just a mental shortcoming, either. I’d love to be able to say the wiring in my head is to blame, which means I’ll often completely misinterpret signals. Yes, that happens, and there’s comprehension as to why… but other times, it really isn’t. Really specific stuff upsets me. Thoughtlessness, arrogance and the inability to possess even basic empathy. When you politely disagree with someone and their reaction is to give you the finger. Nothing says mature and sensible like the bird, actual or metaphorical. That’s probably why I use it so much because, on my day, I’m that person too.

Except you’ll never see it happen.

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I am tired, and need a holiday, and so my tolerance is low. Things other people find funny I will object to, but with a perfectly sensible set of reasons… except there’s no point in listing them. Repeating them is largely redundant if your target audience is gonna flip you the bird and explain that you’re the problem. Get a sense of humour, lighten up, why are you so serious? I’m this way because these things matter to me: when the tables turn, and you get incandescently angry over summat I agree with, remind us to have the conversation again and then perhaps you might listen, though I doubt it.

Today I realised how my writing has become the means by which these problems are solved without conflict.

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Short stories and poetry are becoming metaphors for far more than simply my own internal demons. Other people’s actions are now being exorcised, their attitudes that can be so painful to read or observe. I have, in my poetry submissions, also dealt with Brexit and the Internet as general contentious topics: it was never meant to be political, but just ended up that way. What was provocation at 2.15 then vanishes into a poem or paragraph by teatime and all the angst is forgotten. This is certainly cheaper than therapy.

Ironically, it is the level of noise and discomfort that the Internet has always emanated which gave inspiration today for another project, which will be presented as part of a submission for the Hollingworth Prize for Poetry, the closing date for which is the end of August. If unsuccessful, I’ve already got plans afoot to self-publish, as this will make up a fully fledged creative project. Experience has shown me that you don’t go into these situations without being prepared for failure, and whatever happens, this is already a concept I’m proud of.

This is all part of the process of remaining sane, arguments and all. I’m not here to be lectured to or shoved about either, there’s been far too much of that in the past. Now, things happen on my terms.

If I fall down, it doesn’t matter.

#Narrating2018/Art/Poetry Projects/Oh For Goodness Sake/Writing as Therapy/Writing Projects

In and Out

I’d love to know how Normal Brains work. By that, a couple of assumptions are made: there are people who do not go through the mental turmoil I seem to cope with on a semi regular basis, and there are people who just write and everything comes out fine. Yes, I know you do editing and you tweak and then you go get some advice from your friends and tweak some more but… Okay, let me try and explain the problem I have in words that make sense.

I’ve always been able to write, and if you look at my work across a period of years it is obvious where the light-bulb moments have taken place. Just as pianists must practice, or an athlete will run every day whilst in competition, keeping mental faculties sharp is a vital part of the evolutionary process. What didn’t happen was the discovery of my own internal ‘voice’ until very recently (and by that I mean the last five years.) Fiction before this point was variable at best, and I’d not written a poem since the late 1980’s.

It was time to go to the mattresses.

Fighting myself has been very productive since 2012: pushing away the perceived barriers of ability, logically dismissing shortcomings, learning from everywhere and anywhere. The oddest stuff has been inspiration, literally hundreds of hours reading other people’s advice, so that a workable path could be plotted between where I was and where ability needed to be. A fellow writer this week has lamented the time its taken her to edit her novel. I’ve been at MMXCI for over 18 years, only now close to something that could be considered worthwhile.

I have 007 to thank, of course, for the training wheels that were stuck on my two fanfics, easily removed and bolted onto my own work. Creating a work of fiction in a well-established, easily accessible Universe give an opportunity to work out what is needed for your own to work, and for me there were so many holes to be filled when pulling MMXCI back to the table. However, now comes the realisation why that is so important, as the narrative pretty much runs as parallel experience for how I managed to find my way from the lowest point in my life in 2005 until now.

I have inadvertently written an autobiographical novel.

What has happened in between 1999 and now, of course, is the continued and systematic learning and unlearning of the restrictions on my mental freedom. After all that time, I really am getting somewhere.

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