Run To the Hills

Last week will be remembered for many things, but most particularly because I created two submission packages from existing work and sent them away with possibly the minimum amount of stress I’ve ever experienced. Normally, such things would take a phenomenal amount of mental energy to put together, and then get sent off with often ridiculous amounts of perceived expectation.

Not this time. I cannot allow myself to pin hopes on stuff like this any more, it’s ridiculous considering how low the success rates are for acceptance. Instead, Patreon grants me the opportunity to create original, important content at my speed, in my own space and, most crucially on my own terms. This has become the expectation and anticipation that’s required to keep my brain both alert and comfortable.


This means that my commitment to new work can continue unabated (and it is, got a massive project planned for June, layout and contents already sketched and ready to roll) without the stress of feeling there is no professional momentum. That’s what this has all been about in the last two years, getting noticed and putting myself about which is proceeding as well as can be expected in the midst of a pandemic.

After that, it is hit and hope, which has always been the case when all is said and done. At least right now it’s a cheap lifestyle that’s being lead, I’m able to still create content with a measure of confidence and belief, and the wheels haven’t fallen off anything for AGES. You celebrate every victory as they happen in situations such as this. It is a daily process of staying calm, focussed, whilst producing something as progress.

After that, everything else is a welcome bonus.

Red Dust

Lockdown has affected people in different ways: I’m discovering that many friends are missing their work routines so much they’ve simply recreated different versions of them at home. There’s one who is, I’m sure, looking at my heart rate belt stats and taking that as a personal affront, because BOY is she pushing me to work harder right now. Then there are those who, despite all this free time, can’t find ways to avoid the inevitable.

Even as the world disintegrates, some stuff cannot be ignored any longer.


For me, life is pretty decent right now. The problem, inevitably, will be catching up from having been effectively poleaxed for the last two days of last week, but if it matters enough I’ll hunker down, it always happens. Sure there’s still those two things still to sort on the website which keep getting shifted down and across the To Do List, but that’s always been the way this things work out.

To remain happy, and keep momentum going, there will need to be some poetry revisited soon. I’d assumed it would be something old, but more and more there’s an itch, somewhere between my metaphorical shoulder blades. Maybe I should try ticking someone else’s box this time, and not just my own. Perhaps, even if I fail, it would be worth stepping right outside of the comfort zones and doing something truly frightening.

Except, in some ways, it really isn’t.


It’s like I’m living, some days, in the 2020 version of this 2017 article. People invent fresh terror to pile onto existing stupidity whilst all I’d like is less stuff and more time to write. We don’t need more Internet of Things, but less consumerism and a greater understanding of how to make humanity cope with futures where touching each other could end up as fatal.

Mostly, I need to redefine what I consider as appropriate validation in 2020.

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