Maybe I Should Just Not Go Anywhere…

OK, so maybe watching the new Tosca at the Met with all the talk of the “dark eyes” and “burning with love” has been a mistake…

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The Silent Partners

Depression is a Silent partner. It retreats to the dark corner where it probably sits by itself, face glued to a smartphone. It is socially awkward AF. It is also silently, sneakily poisoning you and everything you do and feel. And because it is silent, no one around you can hear it. They don’t notice it. They see just you and they don’t like what they see. They attribute the unlikeability to you for they do not see the silent partner. Or do they dislike you? Is it the silent partner that is making you think that? You march over to the dark corner – where it is sitting, face glued to the phone – to demand some answers! But the air is thick and murky, your feet feel heavy and tired, so you sit down and think “Not now. Maybe later.”. And you are both silent.

Oooomf! (cont’d)

Here are some “next-day-after-spending-day-climbing-with-the-ex” thoughts: 1. It is unbearable to be just friends with someone you love, to stay calm and composed when all you ache to do is hug them, and kiss them, and never let go; and 2. I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really need a drink. Also, kinda-sorta 3. I cannot stop living my life because our paths might cross on occasion.

Oooomf!

Ok. So I spent the day rock climbing with a nice group of people that I have went with before. Except today the group included my ex. You know, the one this entire bloody blog is about.

So now we know two things. One, Yours Truly is doing much better than before. And two, I am still totally in live with her.

So You Wanna Write? Part 1: Let’s Be Real

adoptingjames

hate-writing At the time of this writing the only difference between you and me is that I have one published book under my belt. That may sound like a world of difference to you, but it’s really not. All that means is that I’ve written more pages than you on one conclusive story, followed some advice by attending a local writer’s group, met a local guy who publishes books, sent him my manuscript, and he sent me a contract.

That’s the birth of The Man in the Box.

Here’s how it didn’t work. I didn’t send my completed manuscript to five agents, and I didn’t get ten phone calls the next day begging me to become their client (instead, I got over 300 rejections).

The local news didn’t call me when I tweeted, “Book one: Done” (I didn’t have a Twitter account, yet).

Fox News, CNN, NBC, ABC – none of them…

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