Every day is different. I’ve reached that limbo place I call the off season. The time of year where I have finished all book drafting efforts and editing. Now I have actual time to think and process. So much progress has been made in my life this year but I continue to shuffle around with a kind of cloud over me. Only this cloud sometimes lets the sun in and then it becomes overcast again. 

Cemetery House is heading for release, a book which I know will face limited success. All sequels do, only a select have read Open Evening and this has very much weighed down upon my thought process. I expect only the loyal to invest, perhaps there will be flurry of selfies from my nearest and dearest; sometimes that’s enough, especially at this still embryotic stage of my writing career. The characters and their story is worth so much more, maybe that’s what keeps me going. Their struggle can mirror the reader’s every day battle’s, like me.

Whilst my marketing efforts remain consistent I now have all this time to decide what comes next. Script writing comes to mind, already I have had partial success with my latest pantomine play which is currently in the early rehearsal stage. There is also the bugging and returning desire to convert Open Evening into a film screenplay, a mountain I know is realistically climbable and a venture which could act as an entry into an industry I know nothing of.

Either way my emotions are continuing to reel, the disappointment of not getting a somewhat deserved opportunity still fresh. What happens now? I’ll process and think, that’s how I heal, slowly, then when I am ready another project will loom. I must carry on forward and sink beneath the surface of words. Writing is the greatest therapy for any soul in distress, creativity feeds the emotions and persona. I am a writer, I tell stories of reality mixed with the absurd and extraordinary. Every life experience good or bad can be relayed into a characters struggle within the confines of fiction, that’s what makes it feel real. This rough patch is just more fuel for the likes of Kurt Wiseman; the deep thinking hero, or Twister, the ever pessimistic survivor who is always shit out of luck. This stuff fuels character arcs and plots.

Writing is my escape, I spent the first years learning how to do that, now I know I can, that’s what I do, it’s who I am. Every day is different, and each one that passes is filled with opportunity to rise above bad feelings. I’m stronger than that.