Don't Use Me as an Example: A Short Essay

Although, I’ve done this publishing thing a time or two, but I’ll tell everyone, or anyone who asks don’t use me as an example for this writing game. Everyone has their process—what works for them. I’ve told the story before, but it bears repeating, when I was eight I wrote the worst poem in literary history, but my love of writing formed. My mother wanted me to grow up to be an investigative journalist. We both quickly realized I wasn’t diplomatic enough for it. Although she was sure she’d see me on TV one day she just hoped it wasn’t in handcuffs. My Evil One aka Mommie Dearest aka Lifegiver always had the sweetest opinion of my personality.

But I digress. I grew up loving the written word, the way authors compose these perfectly imperfect symphonies of words, sentences, and paragraphs. Authors who paint mentally picturesque landscapes for us to disappear into. I’ve written before that I jotted down short stories in my notebooks with the dream of publishing a story someday. Anne Rice, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Patterson, I wanted to see my name on the cover of a book gracing the shelves of a bookstore. My dad’s parents were voracious readers and I spent weekends at their house growing up. Every night it became a habit to curl up before going to sleep and read. I read everything from pulp detective novels to true crime serial killers. I was way too young for those types of stories, but my love of reading wasn’t stilted because of that.

The Struggle of Being an Inferior Storyteller

I debated long and hard about writing this post, but I had a need to get my thoughts out. If I deemed to post it than that’s why you’re reading it now. Let me start at the beginning, when I started this creative process of putting words to paper. Yes, I started writing back in the day when it was nothing but notebooks and those chunky word processors. Not everyone had a computer or internet, that was mainly for libraries and school computer labs.

I fell in love with the written word early in life due to my dad’s parents. I’d go to their house every weekend or every other, each night they’d lie down in bed before going to sleep to read and it was the start of a lifelong habit. Yet I didn’t read kid books, they loved detective stories and horror. I don’t know if I even understood them or the words, but I remembered loving them. It was getting lost in worlds where the good guy always won. I developed a fascination with Zane Grey and the mystique of the old west.

When people ask when I knew I wanted to be a writer, I always say at 8 when I wrote the worst poem know to the literary world. And maybe it did start there, but my life changed with one book. Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. He created a gritty world with all the nastiness and horror, surreal and realism combined. All I knew is I wanted to write one day. Be a published author.

#NewRelease Lucky #Gay #Romance

The Hyper Hippie of Twirled World Ink is here!

Come Meet Lucky and Priest.

Welcome to Twirled World Ink where the crazies run the asylum.

When someone was asked to describe crazy, if they knew Lee “Lucky” Trenton they’d point at him. Accident prone and without a filter of any kind to tell him to shut up before he says something inappropriate he’s no one’s idea of a perfect partner. Growing up with parents who subscribed to a philosophy of Radical Honesty Lucky and his siblings were doomed from the womb. Lucky found a home away from home at Twirled World Ink, but he didn’t just find a place to belong. He’d found Priest.

Matthew “Priest” Beall ran away from his judgmental family the second he’d earned the money. He’d come in search of Gib Phelps a legend in the tattoo industry. If you wanted to learn the craft, then Gib was the man to beg an apprenticeship with, and he’d begged. Priest might have left the violence of his past behind, but when he closed his eyes it came back to torture him. The only place he felt safe was when his best friend Lucky let him sleep in his arms. He wanted more, but he didn’t think he deserved it.

Priest left his family behind without regret only to find a new one with the crew of Twirled World and the super weird Trenton family. Could he grab onto his new life or would the memories of the past ruin the happiness he’d gained?

BUY LINKS

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On Days When Self-Care Seems Impossible #Bipolar #EverydayStruggle

This isn't a post as a cry for help, it's just things floating around in my head, and, well, I do have a blog, so here is today's bullshit.

For just one day I want...

1. Silence

I don't mean silence where I can turn a deaf hear to what is going on around me. The silence I require is the type where a particular pitch in someone's voice doesn't enrage me. The type where I can smile and not feel as if someone's laugh is pulling my skin so tight I can't breathe. Day in and day out, I spend my time with my jaw clenched and my fists tight to the point I have to shake them out to ease the tensed muscles. Noises of any kind seemingly harsher than necessary

Every day, I live with a rage so great I want nothing more than to put my fist through a wall. It's a struggle no amount of medicine, meditation, or coping mechanisms can ease. I'm just...angry.

#Preorder Lucky (Twirled World Ink 4) #GayRomance

LUCKY (TWIRLED WORLD INK 4)

RELEASE DATE: FEBRUARY 14, 2017

Blurb:

Welcome to Twirled World Ink where the crazies run the asylum.

When someone was asked to describe crazy, if they knew Lee “Lucky” Trenton they’d point at him. Accident prone and without a filter of any kind to tell him to shut up before he says something inappropriate he’s no one’s idea of a perfect partner. Growing up with parents who subscribed to a philosophy of Radical Honesty Lucky and his siblings were doomed from the womb. Lucky found a home away from home at Twirled World Ink, but he didn’t just find a place to belong. He’d found Priest.

Matthew “Priest” Beall ran away from his judgmental family the second he’d earned the money. He’d come in search of Gib Phelps a legend in the tattoo industry. If you wanted to learn the craft, then Gib was the man to beg an apprenticeship with, and he’d begged. Priest might have left the violence of his past behind, but when he closed his eyes it came back to torture him. The only place he felt safe was when his best friend Lucky let him sleep in his arms. He wanted more, but he didn’t think he deserved it.

Priest left his family behind without regret only to find a new one with the crew of Twirled World and the super weird Trenton family. Could he grab onto his new life or would the memories of the past ruin the happiness he’d gained?

I'm an Atheist Lesbian Who Writes Stuff

-Walks up to the podium and taps the mic- Hello, my name is J.M., I am an Atheist. I am a Lesbian. And I like to write stuff that a minority of people like.

-group- Hello, J.M.

-Someone in the back- Why, J.M., do you write Atheists? Do you hate religion?

Why? Thank fake Jesus you asked. The simple answer is because I can and no I don’t hate believers. I respect their right to believe in whatever but don’t trample on my lack of belief and the fact I openly write Atheists.

I’ve been a non-believer from the moment my parents thought, “Hey, wouldn't it be cool to contribute to the world's overpopulation?” I'm pretty sure I was a horrible accident though because I'm….me.

Mending The Broken Pieces

A friend wrote a post this morning and emailed it to me. After reading it, I didn’t feel worthy of the words she wrote. The thank you for holding her hand. I don’t even think I’d still be here without her. You see I’ve been suffering from one issue or another since my teens. A few months ago, I thought I was having a heart attack. I went to the hospital, tolerated the tests and the constant wake ups. One of my cardiac enzymes came back funky so they admitted me. To be honest, I’m not the healthiest person and I’m coming up on the big 4-0.