Just Keep Swimming? (Jan. 31, 2021)

I love writing but there are some days when it's the last thing I want to do. At least twice this week I caught myself making excuses not to write. I did wind up writing both days, and I'm glad I did. More often than not, all it takes for me to get over that hump is to actually sit my ass in front of the computer.

What's crazy is that I'll start making these excuses early in the day. I'll tell myself I deserve a day to just chill, watch a movie, play some video games, eat too many chips, whatever. Fortunately my own guilty conscience usually wins out in those arguments. Not sure how healthy that is but let's just sweep that one under the rug for now.

Today I want to talk about persistence vs stubbornness.

Life was very different for me about a year and a half ago; before we had our son, before I was a stay-at-home dad, before we'd decided I would commit to making writing my full-time gig. Anyone with kids will tell you they change your life. Sometimes it's possible to negotiate the changes, to make them occur according to your preferences. More often than not, something has to give.

Before Gideon came along, my weekdays looked roughly like this: Wake up between 5am-5:30am, put coffee on, walk the dogs, pour coffee, lock myself in my office for a couple hours, go to work at a job I was growing to hate for 8-10 hours, come home, pour a drink, put my feet up, pass out. (For a long time I would stack a weekend of DJ gigs on top of this - my hours were bonkers.)

After Gideon was born, I tried to keep this up to some degree. With what I believed to be one attentive ear turned toward my wife and new son, I attempted to keep up with my regular routine. By this point DJing had at least been phased out of my life. 

What took me too long to figure out was that I was being stupid and selfish. I'm lucky enough to have an understanding wife who communicates with me and gives me more leeway than I could ever hope to deserve. The main problem, we would come to realize together, was the job I was working. We both knew I hated it and that it was affecting my attitude at home, as well as my ability to be home with my family. And the pay for the work sucked. I applied for a seasonal job and quit the bad job. 

But I was still trying to live the life I'd been living before. I'm supposed to be a writer, right? And I've always been a morning guy so it makes sense to write first thing in the morning, right? As it turned out, no. I was effectively ostracizing my family for the bulk of the time I was at home with them. So adjustments had to be made once more. 

All of these changes took place after thoroughly discussing them with Annie. We both try to communicate our expectations, wants, needs, grievances, etc with each other in as timely a manner as possible. It's not always pretty but it's saved us from resentment, bitterness, and going to sleep angry on more than one occasion. 

We tried a bunch of different things for my "office time" but eventually settled on the evenings, after Gideon's bedtime, for me to write. It wasn't ideal for me at first. Evenings, to me, were for relaxing and winding down. Really though, it came down to how badly I want to write, which is a lot. So I had to go through the tough process of changing my sleep habits and adjusting my idea of how I wanted my evenings to go. I mentioned in a previous blog that I protect at least an hour at the end of the night for me to chill. Know what? It's enough for me. If I want to watch a long movie or something, I save it for the weekend.

Further adjustments became necessary when Annie went back to work and I stepped into the role of the stay-at-home parent. The days got busy in a whole new way. For me, the key has been to keep up the momentum throughout the day. When Annie gets home, I take off my childcare hat and put on my chef's hat. After dinner is eaten and I've cleaned the kitchen, I take off my chef's hat and put on my writer's fedora. I lock myself in my office for an 1-1.5 hours and then the rest of the night is mine. If I'm on a roll writing, I don't even notice the time go by anyway. And since it's at night and Gideon's in bed, it doesn't matter if I zone out and spend a bit more time at the keyboard. 

"Just keep swimming" is a phrase I've clung to ever since I first heard Dory utter the words. Persistence is a positive thing but should be kept in check, especially when what you do impacts others, whether it be your spouse, friends, neighbours, co-workers, employers, etc. 

It helps to have someone in your life who can point out when persistence turns into stubbornness or bullheadedness. But we're also accountable for our own actions and behaviour. Pursuit of the dream is honourable. Pursuing it in a bulldozer that shoots fire, rolls on metal-spiked tires, and blares obnoxiously bass-heavy music is less-so. There are arguments to be made for the bulldozer approach, to be sure, but I've found the more considerate you are in your pursuit, the more likely it is that those around you will want to help you achieve your dream. 

Thanks for stopping by and indulging me for a few. I'd love it if you shared this with your friends, family, neighbours, and Skip the Dishes driver. If you have a suggestion for a topic for my next post (not that these tend to be super topical) or a writing prompt for me, please don't be shy. It's totally cool to just shoot me a message to say hi as well.

Stay safe and be well.

Intermittent Fasting for the Brain (Jan. 17, 2021)

There are so many apps, podcasts, videos, tutorials, and streams out there to help "guide" us to tranquility. From apps to help us sleep or relax, to yoga videos to guide us to inner calm, to ASMR podcasts to relax us, to audiobooks on meditation, our choices are limitless. We're lucky to have so many resources at our disposal. The thing they all have in common though, what makes them unable to grant us absolute peace, is that they all require the attention of our eyes and / or ears.

Disclaimer: I'm not knocking any of the aforementioned aids. I know a lot of people benefit from them in one way or another.

View from our cottage in Gore, QC

View from our cottage in Gore, QC

A big downside to having access to limitless content and material is that we are almost always being exposed to it. Whether it's the radio in the background, a podcast during a walk, or the barrage of visual and auditory data coming from our personal devices and computers, most of us have something demanding at least part of our attention. 

What does this do to us? I have no idea, personally. I haven't studied this or done any real research on the matter. What I have done is thought a lot about it and considered it in my own life. I'm not prescribing anything, just spitballing.

We've all seen movies or TV shows in which someone is brainwashed by having their eyes taped open and being subjected to a constant stream of images and sounds. Yet most of us willingly subject ourselves to this level of stimulation for hours upon hours every day. And sure, some of our livelihoods depend on it. But there must be some consequence to the constant mental download of so much information. Right? Didn't our parents tell us (and I'm speaking to a certain demographic, I know) that "all that TV will rot your mind"? I know we've all heard the adage "Crap goes in, crap comes out", or some variation of it. 

This isn't to say it's all crap. Or that we're being brainwashed or having our minds melted. It must have an impact on how we think and on what we think, though. No analogy is perfect but take, for example, flower dyeing. Take a white flower, mix a bit of blue food dye in with its water, and bam! Blue flower. We're not flowers and I'm not talking about chemical processes (or am I? I don't actually know) but it illustrates the point I'm trying to make.

What do we lose when we have so much data being sent into our brains? I'd argue we're not only thinking differently but that we're thinking less, even worse. And it's easier, right? Why think about that shitty day at work when you can listen to a hilarious podcast instead? Why listen to the sounds of traffic and other people on our bus / train / walk to work, when we can listen to some good music? Why have a silent, depressing house when we can have episodes of The Office playing while we get our homework done or fold our laundry? Why work to sleep or relax when we can plug our earbuds and have some sultry voice lull us into dreamland?

Are podcasts bad? Is music bad? Is The Office bad? In my opinion, none of those things are. I'd argue they're all very good. I'd also argue whiskey and burgers and cookies are good. Too much of any of those, though, and we all know what the results can be. Why are we so protective about our bodies and so much less so of our minds? 

I'm not suggesting any of us should go without these things. Just, maybe, less. 

Speaking from experience, it's a tough thing to get used to again; hearing yourself think. Especially if you aren't used to being alone with your thoughts. I went through a period of a few years where I constantly had something either on TV, or playing in my earholes. If that wasn't the case, then I was almost certainly reading something. I love books and read a lotso trust me when I say I'm not speaking ill of that. I also love movies. I also, also love a good podcast, especially one with an engaging story. Just like a good whiskey, or a good burger, it's entirely unhealthy to be ingesting those things constantly, without respite.

The reason I mentioned things like meditation apps and the like is because they all sell the idea of peace but none of them really give you the opportunity to actually experience peace. I'm the first to advocate for white noise to help you sleep. I'm not talking about sleep time though; I'm talking about time with yourself, in your own mind, without the guide. If a voice is telling you how to breathe, to relax your mind, to picture a calm lake, you're still subject to that voice.

As a writer, I'm sort of obligated to daydream. A little while back, I realized I felt guilty about daydreaming. I felt like, if I had the opportunity, I should be learning or experiencing something new, as often as possible. And yes, learning and new experiences are hugely important. But we also need time to process what we learn, to deal with and think about our experiences. If we're taught how to meditate, we should take the time, sans guide, to actually meditate.

I don't say that we should toss out our earbuds or delete our meditation apps. But it might be healthy to set out ten, twenty, thirty minutes each day to just be. I started with my dog walks - at least one walk a day is done without my earbuds. I just walk and think (or not think - sometimes the brain just needs to stretch). These days, I've been more deliberate about actual daydreaming. Typically I'll take advantage of Gideon's nap time to allow my mind to wander. Sometimes I'll try to focus it on a certain project. Other times I'll find myself planning out meals for the rest of the week. Sometimes I'll just reflect on life. The mind usually knows what to prioritize.

I think it can be scary for some to engage in this sort of behaviour. After all, nothing tangible is getting done. Also, do I really want to think about what happened this week? Do I want to confront my own behaviour? Not always, no. But it doesn't have to be that scary. I think giving ourselves permission to think, to explore our own minds, to daydream, without additional stimulation, can lead to overwhelmingly positive change. 

It's as good a time as any to try it. In some way or another we've all been forced to slow down because of COVID. For a lot of us, this means we have a bit of extra time. There might be a lot to worry about and, yeah, that might be where your mind goes at first. Thinking through our dilemmas, our worries, our trials, might be a good place to start making reparations or to change course. And, to think of it more positively, it could provide us with an opportunity to relish the good things that are happening, to dwell on what's nice in our lives and what we want to pursue further. 

I can tell you some of my best recent ideas have come out of this practice. I don't say it's easy. And it probably isn't for everyone. I'd encourage you to give it a shot, though. A big diet trend these days is intermittent fasting. While I can't speak to the efficacy of such a diet for your body, it might be worth a try for your brain. 

As the great visionary, Morpheus told Neo: "Free your mind." Go ahead, try the blue pill.

Squirrel! (Jan. 3, 2021)

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

I'm the king of distractions. My momentum can be derailed by almost any shiny object, interesting sound, or wayward thought. In fact, it's taken me about fifteen minutes just to get past that initial sentence. My traitorous mind takes my thoughts to matters of aesthetics (Did I use a good enough picture for this post?), subject matter (Does anyone really care about my distractions?), my environment (What music should I listen to?), or physical satisfaction (Should I pour myself a coffee before I carry on?)

Some say, in the most flattering way possible, that this is the curse of the creative mind. That may be true. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

One way I've found of harnessing my proclivity for procrastination is to direct my attention to more productive forms of distraction. A big reason I do this is because I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt anytime I'm engaged in less-than-productive activities, even when I don't have things to be doing. I recognize that's not entirely healthy but we'll save that for another day. One positive thing that comes from it is that I rarely become distracted from what I'm doing by video games or TV shows (not that there is anything wrong with those things - I love both very much). 

Finding a specific, productive distraction takes almost as much mental energy as focusing on whatever thing I'm supposedto be doing. When I notice my attention wandering, I recognize it's probably for a reason. I might be boring myself with my own work, for example. If that's the case, how likely is it that anyone else is going to want to read it? In times like these, I take the hint and find something else to do. 

A big caveat to all of this is that I am the father of an energetic one-year-old. Anyone with kids will tell you that, even after bedtime, they are a constant distraction. One way to avoid feeling frustration at child-related distractions is to accept that, since becoming a parent, my time is no longer entirely my own. I recognize I'm in a unique position to frame my thinking this way, being a stay-at-home writer-dad. If my son requires my immediate attention, I can always take care of my creative work another time. Is it always ideal? Nope. But the alternative is not an option for me. I refuse to be the leave-me-the-hell-alone-I'm-working kind of dad. If I really, truly need time to myself without any form of distraction, I will make myself inaccessible either by going somewhere else to work or by sequestering myself in my office while Annie watches our son (and even then I'm never totally out of reach).

I have a few ways of managing my ever-wandering mind — part prevention, part redirection. These may or may not work for you. I do not list them with the intent to instruct; merely to elucidate, encourage, and inspire, if at all possible.

Manage the Work Environment (as much as possible)
I'm lucky enough to have an office in our house where I can work. It's a mess, which is its own distraction in some ways. Fortunately it's cluttered enough that I really only have room to sit at my desk and write. When I'm in writing mode, I'll shut the door, turn off or silence alerts on all my devices, and drown out the world with whatever music I'm feeling. 

I don't keep a TV or video games of any sort in my office. As I said, I don't typically get distracted by those things but it's best to be free of temptation. I also don't download games to my computer, the Internet provides ample opportunity for diversion.

I'll often lock myself in my office with a light snack, a bottle of water, and a time-of-day appropriate drink (coffee or tea before dinner, whiskey or beer after dinner). This eliminates the compulsion to go foraging anytime my fingers take a break.

Music, as I mentioned, can be a big distraction for me. Namely, finding the right type of music to listen to when I write. Normally this isn't an issue. I have different playlists for various types of writing. I'll assemble or source these playlists on my downtime so that I don't waste an hour of precious office time putting one together. Often I'll go for some form of classical music, depending on the project. For one script I wrote, I listened entirely to horror movie scores. For another I only listened to dark, ominous, almost-ambient stuff. Writing my novel, I listened to a lot of Iron Maiden. Working on this blog, I'm listening to heavy metal. I try to stay away from stuff I can easily sing along to because I'll almost certainly wind up doing just that. Foot-stomping and finger-tapping on the other hand are all conducive to a productive mind, if you ask me.

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Schedule Work/Play Time
This is pretty straight forward but often overlooked. Scheduling work and leisure time helps to ensure I'm getting enough of both. This means coordinating with my wife and setting expectations realistically with each other. Often she will put our son, Gideon, to bed and I'll use that time for my writing. 

In addition to scheduling the time for work, I'll decide ahead of time what I'm going to work on. I'm one of those guys who likes to have a bunch things on the go at once. If I don't have a plan for what I'll be working on, I'm likely to sit in front of my computer screen opening and closing documents until I fall asleep.

As I said, it's just as important to schedule leisure time. I used to hate doing that. To me, scheduling has always meant work. So if I'm scheduling my leisure time, it's like its a part of my work day, right? Welcome to adulthood. Scheduling playtime ensures I'm getting it but not overdoing it. Usually I give myself one to two hours of TV or video game time in the evening, depending on what I've got going on and when I want to get to bed. Any other free time is dedicated to reading.

Redirect Accordingly
When I do get distracted, since I've eliminated as much external stimulus as possible, it's usually because something isn't happening with my work. Again, I'm coming at this as a creative but I feel like this can apply to a lot of vocations.

If my mind wanders to the point where I can't get it back into what I'm doing, I accept that it might be for a reason and step away. Normally I have a small list of things I can do when this occurs. There is always something to be done around the house, whether it's cleaning or (shudder) organizing my office. My first go-to will typically be something physical. We have three dogs so that one's always easy. Often I find that a walk will declutter my mind or at least allow it to drift for a while without the pressure of writing. 

When chores or a walk won't cut it, I'll try to direct my attention to another project. Sometimes switching gears will be daunting enough that my brain will beg me to go back to what we were working on before. What a sucker. If not, I can rest assured that I'm still being productive.

These are all things that work for me. Things that have taken years to figure out, and will likely take many more to perfect, if that can even be done. My hope is that one or two of the things I've said will spark something with you. Maybe you disagree with may methods wholeheartedly. That's great, if it means you're thinking of your own methods. 

Thanks again for coming by and giving me your time and attention. Whether you loved it or hated it, I'd love it if you dropped me a line and let me know you were here.

I'd also love it if you could share this with people in your life who you think might enjoy hearing from an aspiring author / stay-at-home-dad / fellow human trying to figure stuff out. 

Either way, thanks for being here.

The Grind, The Balance, A Different Christmas (Dec. 26, 2020)

I like to think of myself as fairly disciplined when I put my mind to it. I get a modest amount of exercise, I eat sort of well (certainly compared to how I would like to eat), and I try to limit my leisure time. 

As a stay-at-home dad my days are typically in service to my son or the upkeep of the household, so leisure time isn't really a factor (and let me be clear, this is not any sort of flex — I have a looong way to go to live up to the bar Annie set and continues to uphold). Mind you, when Gideon is in the mood to allow it, I'm granted about half an hour of reading time first thing in the morning while he gets his blood moving with some Cheerios and The Wiggles. Any other free time during the day is frantically put towards whatever chores need getting done or supper preparations. 

Honestly, this is how I like it. I tend to stagnate if I'm not being productive. 

So when do I write? Exactly. 

Most days of the week, Annie will take charge of putting Gideon to bed while I feed the animals and tidy the kitchen of our collective supper mess. Beasts fed and kitchen tidy, I'll say goodnight to Gideon (it usually takes a while for him to wind down for bed) and hole away in my office for a minimum of an hour.

The time spent in my office depends entirely on the project I have on the go or, since I typically have more than one on the go, which project I'm focussing on. Currently I'm going through the final rewrite of my novel before querying literary agents so I typically stick to the one-hour schedule these days. 

I love the rewriting process but at this point I've read this work so many times that I have to take it word-by-word to ensure I don't skim over anything. Familiarity breeds blindness, at least in the case of the written word. Especially when said word comes from the reader's own mind. For instance, as many times as I've read it, I'm still coming across the occasional silly typo. And that's after having other readers proof it for me.

The work is exhausting on my eyeballs, especially after a day of chasing around a one-year-old while keeping a small pack of dogs relatively entertained. Children and beasts alike tend to become destructive when bored.

After my allotted office hours (or hour), I allow myself to use whatever conscious hours I have left to watch an episode of something or read whatever book I've got on the go or, often, both. Usually this is accompanied by a stiff drink, admittedly carried forward (and possibly refilled) from my office hours. 

The hour or so of me-time at the end of the day is vital to my mental and emotional well-being. It's completely possible to function without it, of course. I can even do it with a smile on my face. But the lack of release builds up. Even if I can stay positive outwardly, I might find myself in a negative headspace that will typically hinder my creative thinking. And sometimes, God help me, it comes out as snarkiness towards my awesome wife, which makes me feel terrible and guilty and, consequently, more negative. 

This means that a lot of my time management throughout the day is done with a heavy focus on preserving at least an hour of me time at the back end of it. 

And mistake me not, me time is not an exclusive activity. While Annie and I tend to enjoy different forms of evening entertainment (you won't catch me watching Working Moms), I am just as rejuvenated spending leisure time with her as I would be spending it on my own. Sometimes that means I read my book while she plays Animal Crossing, or I play Breath of the Wild while she watches one of her shows. Proximity is often good enough for us.

Though I try to make sure I am doing at least something to further my writing career every day of the week, I took a much-needed break from it all for a couple of days over Christmas. This was a very different holiday season, of course, because of the pandemic. 

Like so many others, we're in a much more delicate financial situation than we've ever been in. Because of this, we decided not to buy presents this year for anyone else or each other. Gideon was the exception. Even so, the majority of his gifts were secondhand toys that Annie managed to get for free. We spent the night of Christmas Eve scrubbing them down with homemade disinfectant. As two people who love to give gifts, this was tough. 

All told, it may have been the most wholesome Christmas we've celebrated. Gone was the pressure to find the perfect gifts. Instead of time shopping, we had time with each other and with our son. And instead of having our attention being taken up with a new gadget or accessory, our attention on Christmas morning was wholly focused on our son as he ignored most of his presents in favour of a plastic egg. It was magical and refreshing.

Things have certainly not worked out exactly as I've wanted them to. But this forced change in pace, in perspective, and in our lifestyle has challenged me in some really positive ways. Having to work on this rewrite a little slower is forcing me to think through my work a lot more. The result, I believe, is a much better novel.

That said, I'm looking forward to starting in on my next project. There's nothing like crafting the first draft; staying up in my office way too late, telling myself the story for the first time, writing to beat the devil. Those will be the days when I'll have to remind myself (and it may take Annie reminding me) to make sure I'm taking time for myself. 

The most important thing to me in all this is being a good husband and father. It's like the people in the airplane safety videos tell you: Secure your own oxygen mask before assisting others. It's not a perfect metaphor, of course, but I'm trusting you're intelligent enough to catch my meaning.

It would mean the world to me if you'd share this with your friends, family, colleagues, bookclub members, etc. There should be a button...somewhere around here...

Feel free to drop me a line. Let me know if you loved this or hated it. Have suggestions? Fire away. Need someone to talk to? I'm here.

Either way, thanks for being here.

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Right Place, Right Time, Right Attitude (Dec. 17, 2020)

Like many writers, I have been chomping at the bit to get my stuff out there. To be recognized. To be published. To make it. Like many other writers who know Stephen King's story, and who idolize him as I have, I've often felt insecure about the fact that I hadn't published my first book in my 20s. 

I'm more than half-way through my 30s now (and very aware of how close I am to 40, dear God) and can honestly say I'm glad it's taken me this long to start really trying to "make it" as a full-time author / writer / fabricator of fantastic falsities. Not for any lack of desire, believe me. Lack of focus, absolutely. The want was all there.

For sure, I would love if my name was all over bookshelves, libraries, bookstores, Amazon, etc. but I'm okay with the fact that it's not...yet. In fact, I'm kind of reassured. For one thing, if I'd published a novel in my 20s I am confident it would not be anywhere close to a bestseller. Or publishable, for that matter. For another thing, my experiences and education have grown in huge ways. 

Just like most twenty-somethings, I thought I knew it all. Life was figured out and I knew exactly where I was headed and how. Now I know you can never really know any of those things, which is part of the beauty of life and the journey we're on. Recognizing that has not only helped me in terms of coming to grips with where I'm at as a writer, but also to enjoy life in general. I'm no longer in a huge rush to get it all done as quick as possible. I have goals, sure. I even have a timeline. Both are flexible and allow for contingency. 

In my 30s, I have received invaluable education, broadened my horizons, and learned what's important to me. My experience in the workforce has influenced my work in ways I never thought possible. I've always worked in some kind of customer-centric environment, which means I had a lot of exposure to a lot of different people. This is huge for a writer, if you ask me. Knowing people is an important step to writing them. I've had the opportunity to engage with, work with, and learn from people from all sorts of walks of life, with a vast array of worldviews, philosophies, and opinions. I've worked for some of the worst people and some of the best people in the world, in my opinion, of course. 

When I think about it, my professional life is rich creative fodder. I've had a lot of jobs, all brimming with literary potential. I've done the standard stuff like work the cash at McDonald's, and more than one coffee shop. I've bartended. I've managed several businesses. I've owned a business. I've been a DJ, MC, entertainer, and stage performer. I've been a children's entertainer, going to birthday parties dressed up as a Ninja Turtle on some of the hottest days of the year. I drove a truck for a clothing donation program. I've waited tables, done data-entry, wrangled buggies at Costco, and even had a very brief stint in local politics. The jobs themselves are rich for the pickings in any sort of creative work. The people I met and the experiences I had at each of them are what make them invaluable to my aspiring literary career.

Ten, fifteen years ago, I had probably less than half of this stuff under my belt. I'm a lucky dude to have lived the life I have and I fully intend to keep broadening my horizons and experiences. 

Does this mean I've written the next New York Times Bestseller? I dunno. I hope so. But I'm a realist. The written word, like the life we live, is subjective. I, for one, am proud of what I've written and I know my wife is too. That's important to me. Writing makes me happy. The fact that I get to spend a bunch of time doing it is fulfilling in itself. I can't wait to show you what I've been working on. 

And I'm okay that it's taken this long. 

Ignition (Dec. 6, 2020)

I started writing in earnest when I was eleven. I'd always been a teller of tales, I just never thought anyone except my mom or younger brothers would appreciate them. And it wasn't even stories that I first took seriously; it was poetry. 

In grade school I did very little that impressed my teachers and much that horrified them. I remember walking into art class one day and my teacher telling me that we would be using India ink in class and that perhaps I'd better spend the period in the library. That was the kind of kid I was. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy art class, I loved it. I just didn't enjoy it in the way I was supposed to. In fine art studies, I drew cartoons. When we used clay, I created monsters that would fight each other. I guess we can't blame my teachers for anticipating what sort of havoc would come from allowing me to play with India ink.

It therefore came as a complete surprise when I was approached my a teacher in the sixth grade and told that I should enter a poetry competition our school was taking part in. Winners would be published in a book of poetry and would be able to order copies of said book when it was released. Of course it was a bit of a scheme but this was the early 90s when it was much easier for everyone to be taken by such a thing. Certainly I didn't know any better. My parents were elated when they found out I had been selected as a winner. I'm pretty sure now that all who entered were selected, provided their poetry wasn't vulgar or plagiarized. My mom ordered several copies of the anthology; I still have my copy on my bookshelf and I know she does as well.

That sealed it for me. I was going to be a poet. From the sixth grade up until late into high school I read and wrote poetry obsessively. I carried around notebooks with me that I would fill up with my poems. As I grew older, my poetry grew more angsty. My friends, I recall, loved to read my work. They would pass around my notebooks and read my latest work together. That was always a pretty special thing in my life — I had people who truly wanted to read my work.

It was sometime late into high school, or maybe after I'd graduated, that I became disillusioned with poetry. I looked back on my work and thought of it all was fraudulent. Who was I to be writing such things? None of it was true. I wrote angry poems about being tired of life, about depression, or about love but none of them were ever about anything I actually felt. I didn't think so anyway. But there were a few poems I had written that stirred something in me. I had taken to reading Edgar Allen Poe and had tried my hand at writing gothic / horror poetry. I remember feeling those poems were more honest, mostly because they didn't pretend to be about my emotions; they were about ghouls and vampires and spirits. 

Writing fiction wasn't exactly new to me. As I mentioned, I had always been one for conjuring tales. I was an avid reader, latching onto horror fiction early in life. I must have read every one of R.L. Stine's Goosebumps books published between 1992 - 1998. At 12 or 13 I got into his Fear Street series and then branched out into the likes of Christopher Pike and, inevitably, Stephen King. At age 13, while still in elementary school, one of my teachers pushed me to enter a post-secondary writing contest. Hundreds of kids sat in a hall and were given a one-hour time limit to write a short story, by hand (this was '97 or '98, after all). I lost the story but I remember it had to do with a prowler breaking into the house of a young couple and murdering them in the middle of the night. I won second prize. 

Fast forward to my days late in high school when I'd grown sick of poetry. I decided to try my hand at writing short stories. Something clicked. For all the daydreaming I did, it's a wonder I didn't pick up on it sooner. I wrote story after story, all for my own amusement. My audience remained small; my mom, my brothers, and a few friends were the only ones to read my work. At one point I submitted a story to Cemetery Dance and received a handwritten rejection slip: "Good story. Not what we're looking for right now" was the gist of it. For some reason that was enough for me to stop bothering to submit anything anywhere. I was writing primarily for my own enjoyment anyway.

Every now and then a story of mine would get passed around the family or my circle of friends and someone would ask me why I wasn't trying to get published. I would shrug it off and pretend that I never saw writing as an attainable career. The ruse soon became truth to me.

I went to college for Broadcast Journalism and, like many who go to school for a particular skill, got a career in a completely different field. I had a lot of experience in food and customer service and so that's where I stayed. I made it into management and put most of my energy into advancing to the point where I was opening and running my own locations for big corporations that will remain nameless. Big corporations have no time for creative types. Not the ones I worked for anyway. I would work stupid-long hours and too many days a week. But late at night or on a day off, I would sit at my desk and write story after story. I tried my hand at a novel but found I couldn't stay focused on it enough with all else I had going on so I abandoned it. 

And then intervention. Two women in my life changed my trajectory. 

My grandmother had always been a fan of my work and was proud to have a writer in the family, even if he was hiding most of his stuff from the world. She called me up one day, excited about a course she'd just taken in screenwriting. She told me she thought it was something I should try my hand at. I demurred. I wrote short stories as a hobby. Why waste my time trying something that would never contribute to my livelihood? That was the attitude I had taken on by that point. She pushed and wore me down. She paid for me to take a three-semester screenwriting course at the University of Toronto. I was hooked after the first day. By the end of the course I had written my first screenplay. 

Shortly before this offer from my grandmother, I had met the woman I would marry. Annie supported my screenwriting from day one. She has always been my best and most enthusiastic supporter. We were engaged less than a year after meeting and married ten months later. With her support and encouragement I wrote two more screenplays, one of which was based on that novel I had abandoned. 

Writing screenplays is great but I was still way too busy with work to do anything serious with my writing. By that point I was managing someone else's business and had started my own. I was working seven days a week with next to no free time. The work was getting to me. I grew to despise the nature of my work. I loved being a leader but management was making me sick. The business I owned was in event entertainment and kept me busy nights and weekends. But the money was good. 

Then came the second intervention. Annie, my superhero of a wife and partner, made me a deal. It was always our plan to have kids and we wanted to get started on that soon. Annie knew I had a novel in me that I was itching to write and that holding it in was hurting me mentally, emotionally, and even physically to some degree. She made me a deal. She told me to quit my job, get some part time work doing something less stressful, and write my book. After a full maternity leave, during which I would work as many hours as possible, she would go back to work and I would stay home with our child. In the time in between, I would write my novel. 

And it worked out exactly like that. I got a low-stress job running a barbershop for a guy who understands my first passion is writing. My free time was spent writing. We had our first child, Gideon, in November of 2019. By the time Annie went back to work, I was on my dozenth or so rewrite of my first novel.

That brings us, more or less, to today. I'm completing a final polish of the novel and putting together a short list of literary agents to solicit. Will I be successful? Lord knows. I'm grateful for it the opportunity and the support system I have.

There's so much more to all of it than that, of course. Maybe I'll touch on some of that later. 

And the stories? I have a plan for them — those that are worthy, anyway. The screenplays too, I hope will see some success. One was a semi-finalist in the Screencraft Horror Screenplay Competition so maybe it's worth shopping around. I've always got way too many things on the go, it seems. It's a lot more manageable when they are things you love. 

Thanks for sticking with me. 'Til next time,

-C.S.