Resisting the urge to resist the world.

The last blog was a serious piece, on the struggles young men face in the modern landscape of toxic masculine figureheads, I now want to write something easier. It was an article I was proud of, it reads well and I think it should be a piece that young men read if they stumble upon it. But allow me the indulgence of slumming it for a blog post,

clear the mind and get some of the projects I am working on - both writing and personal progress - out into the void of digital divulgence for some external pressure.

Reading and Writing.

So writing, I moved to a side project while I struggled with progress on the third Bulldog book (buy the other two, seriously. They are cheap, just buy them). The side project is currently under the working title; Are We Happy Now? 

I don't really have a grasp on where its going, but its been a testing exercise in writing dialogue about a struggling couple in a relationship less stable than my mental state. It is entirely possible that I twist this thing out over the sink and let it dry, maybe when I come back to this story the characters will tell me where they are going. Maybe it is time I look back into the dystopia of Bulldog 3.

Anyhow, I am moving forward with the next poetry collection, currently I am sifting through my notes and finding good thematic matches. Aside from that I need an overarching topic, I was thinking something to do with growing up in Essex but that might be too strangled. Whether I realise it soon or otherwise, I will be putting out another anthology of poetry and short stories in the next year or two.

Saying goodbye to a pastime.

I mentioned a while ago in a rambling blog, like this one, that I am thinking of jumping back into photography projects. Instead, I decided to go the opposite way. I have since decided that I need to shed the load from the backpack, I sold my photography equipment and haven't looked back. Got £400 for it and donated the ring light to the charity I work for. 

In the long run, this is what makes me happy, not blogging. I mean blogging does make me happy, but I meant writing. Writing is the creative outlet that I am good at. Fuck that. Modesty is for the birds. I am a great writer and believe that my work stands above most others in the suffocation of self-published avalanches. So there wont be anymore photography projects, and I feel good about that. I enjoyed it while I did, and then I didn't. So why keep it around. Streamline and focus. 

The Third Thing.

You might know that I follow the philosophy of Stoicism as regularly as I can. I stick to the tenants of truth, control and dedication to purpose as I interpreted them from Meditations by the great Marcus Aurelius. But that can often become a battle when creating, creativity doesn't adhere to rigid doctrines or moving pieces of a mind unstable enough to dare write stories.

I wrote books, I am still finishing others and find myself in a struggle at all times between pushing my work myself into the reluctant faces of the masses or allowing my words to stand alone. That being a suicidal mission for authors because unfortunately the world doesn't work that way, you either catch lightning in a bottle purely by accident with the grace of an algorithmic miracle moment or you sit and hope people find your work for the quality it has become. 

So why am I chasing the third thing. I wanted to write a book based on an idea I had, lets say Digging Graves as an example (my book on behind the scenes stories, spooky happenings and poetry from my years digging graves). I wrote that book because I wanted to write it, I wrote it and loved writing it. It was finished and I sang its praises to the world, it reached number one on the Amazon poetry sales rankings for a solid week. That is huge. But completely out of my control. Its the third thing.

I write the book, I publish the book and then it is out of my hands. I can put effort into marketing but beyond that, the figures for sales and reads shouldn't be something I allow to effect my mood or perception of my work. I cant control the third thing, people reacting to my book or even buying it. I don't need to control the third thing. I am constantly battling this stoic tenant, maybe we should all think on that more. 

Nothing else to say.

Well here I am. Working on stories. Working at the charity. Working with dogs. Reading, exercising and creating. I have a handle on life, as much as one can. So I think I should stop looking for the third thing. I will drop some information on the new projects when they spring legs, Bulldog 3 has been slumbering after I wrote three chapters. Are We Happy Now? is plodding along but it will be a novelette because, knowing my own beasts, this wont have enough breath for a full length novel.

So keep your head up, stop looking for the third thing and control the reaction, not the emotion.

Until next time you ravenous little beasts.