The +/-

As I settle deeply into my bear-like cave (which is my mind! Whoa…), ready to continue my long, quasi hibernation-esque meditation, tempered with perseverance and sprinkled with a healthy garnish of doe-eyed naivety, waiting for literary agents to get back to me with either good or blegh (official term) news, it has given me the opportunity to ponder my personal framing of receiving rejection.

Rejection is a part of this game, and it’s an element that I am becoming quickly familiar with. Some might say we’re becoming bosom buddies. Others would agree. Like BFF shit. In truth, I actually prefer receiving a bonafide rejection. A lot of agencies don’t have the time or inclination to send you this formal, kind announcement, letting you know that you no longer have to hold your breath on them. Because, y’know, continual breathing tends to be a good thing…

Since being officially recognised as depressed, I’ve been going through a lot of emotional introspection and reflection whilst waiting on these potential acceptances and rejections. It’s a turbulent time to be throwing yourself out there in a creative way, opening yourself up to rejection whilst trying to deal with these other elements.

I travelled back home to try and reconnect with my roots, having an awesome time and saying goodbye far too quickly for my liking, and have dedicated many accumulated hours in pondering what I want, where I’m going, and just how to deal with certain voids I have and demons that haunt me. So, when rejection e-mails come through it’s always a conflicting feeling.

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Yes, I’m grateful that I’m no longer on tenterhooks and can cut the cord with that particular agency, but at the exact same time…oh man, another rejection?

And yet, recently, in the run-up to flying away, I had become the recipient to a few more…uniquely written responses.

Spoiler: still rejections. BUT, the wording, the phrasing, the intent…I believe I had just encountered the positive/negative.

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Wipe Out.

It’s been a month to the day since I updated the blog. A lot has happened since I last tried to capture my thoughts.

First and foremost, just to get this on front street…I’ve been stamped, man. Officially marked and recognised as ‘clinically depressed.’

So, yeah…there’s that…

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Ride The Wave

Today marks the sixth wave of submissions that have been sent out, like little hopeful messages in bottles thrown errantly out into an uncaring ocean, all in the hopes that one will be found by that one person that will see it, resonate with it, and decide to join me on this journey to publication.

Because that’s a key thing to remember here: even if I do find representation in between the mountainous piles of (virtual) rejection notes, it’s simply another step towards the eventual end goal: getting the damn thing into your hands.

Whether it’s via a brick and mortar bookstore (kicking it, old school) or through the magic of the magnificent inter webs, delivering it to your Kindle, all that matters in this long (arduous) endeavour is that you can read it, absorb it and, hopefully, enjoy it.

Just today I came to a double-edged realisation: I’ve been submitting longer than I thought. Also, time is a cruel, harsh mistress. *cries deeply as, like sands through an hourglass, yada yada*

In the time I have been sending Temporary out to agencies, one particular agent (that I had high hopes for) has actually switched to another agency. Its also been about six months since I contacted him at his previous agency. So, why does this matter?

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(Emotional) Rock Bottom, (Emotional) Rock Bottom!

Two weeks ago I was hit with an impactful, decisive, game changing (emotional) rock bottom.  It wasn’t fun.

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Fourteen days ago my girlfriend and I got into a barnstormer of an alcohol fueled (her, not me) late night fight, which led to her saying a lot of things that I’m still carrying with me, rattling away, as they can, in the back of my mindgrapes. Thankfully, things are working out and with a little effort on both our parts, I’m confident that everything will realign for us. We’re on the mend, we just need a little TLC. (In a cute way, you pervert!)

The reason I want to try and paint a little context, dabbing it into this post like a cloud loving Bob Ross, is because it does, believe it or not, relate to my writing…

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It’s Not Much To Ask For, Is It?

 

Take solace in the small victories, the tiny accomplishments. Who knows what they could all add up to.

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Stop Signs & Deadlines.

Welcome to 2017.

So, here’s a fun factoid: at this point in time I am beholden to no-one and, honestly, that’s how its been for the longest while. It’s also the reason why I’ve been so infrequent with my blog posts, writing, and overall progress. The only thing I’ve managed to really dedicate myself to is my geek critique podcast, ‘Sweet Story, Bro.’

The cruel irony is this: the podcast I created to help me embrace stories on a deeper level – to help me become a better writer – has, for the longest part of 2016, overtaken any sort of actual writing.

The podcast still serves its ultimate purpose. I have definitely grown self aware as a reader since its inception, and I have undoubtely learned from how these writers have chosen to tell their stories. I love engaging with narratives beyond ‘I liked it’/’It was good’ and the opportunity its given me to engage with like minded geeks – shoutout to #PodernFamily on Twitter! – and, perhaps most importantly, it’s fun!

Granted, as much growth as the show has seen since its debut (and format tweakage/evolution) last year on January 4th, I’m still naturally pushing for further growth. For more people to treat their ears to its aural sensations, if you will. It would be a dream if ‘Sweet Story, Bro’ could continue to evolve, to create a dialogue amongst writers and fans, perhaps even rake in a little cash to help with server and equipment costs via Donations and fans using the Amazon links for their online purchases (what a validating feeling it was to see people had been doing exactly this over Christmas!)

The podcast has, undoubtedly, been my greatest success this year. And as stoked as that makes me, it’s a double edged blade as its stolen from me the focus and drive I should have been investing into Temporary.

You know, the book I’ve been working on. One of the primary reasons this blog exists.

And so, like most, in the interest of using this time of year for some key self reflection and introspective dissection, its become clear to me that my habitual self sabotage, coupled with enviable levels of procrastination (emphasis on the pro), wrapped up with a pretty ribbon crafted out of a lack of personal accountability has led me to seeing the end of 2016, like most people, as a bit of a disappointing damp squib.

So, what the fuck do I intend to do about it?

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“Do there have to be zombies?”

This story is another example of how “nobody knows anything.” It highlights the apalling nature of attempted collective ‘contribution’ by meddling suits that harbour no respect or reverance for source material or original concepts.

The suggestion that is made wallows in the depths of sub-mediocrity,  unabashed in its brazen attempt to change something that they, as a collective homogenous entity – the ‘suits’, the ‘man’ – don’t understand or appreciate. They don’t care about what makes it special. They don’t care about what makes it unique. They don’t care.

It’s a sobering insight into the TV studio system and is, most probably, representative of film as well. It’s also one of the key reasons I decided to try and take the destiny of Temporary into my own hands, crafting a story that hasn’t been bastardised by agenda/quota/fucktards mixing unmitigaged business ‘ideas cum strategy’ into a creative space.

One vision, mired by a table of cooks, eager to force their own thoughts into an already formed idea.

Breathe, Steve, breathe…

Ok. Let’s take a step back…

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