may it be blissful, free and easy.
and then there’s this:
god: I own you like I own the caves.
the ocean: Not a chance. No comparison.
god: I made you. I could tame you.
the ocean: At one time, maybe. But not now.
god: I will come to you, freeze you, break you.
the ocean: I will spread myself like wings. I am a billion tiny feathers. You have no idea what’s happened to me.
– dave eggers
You Don’t Have to Be Pretty.
You don’t owe prettiness to anyone. Not to your boyfriend/spouse/partner, not to your co-workers, especially not to random men on the street. You don’t owe it to your mother, you don’t owe it to your children, you don’t owe it to civilization in general. Prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked ‘female’.”
Diana Vreeland
hello friends! how the hell is everyone doing on this fine autumn day, if you are indeed in a part of the world where it is autumn and day. but wherever and whenever you are, I hope you’re happy and doing whatever it is you love doing.
I’m here to post links to a few recent happenings. I hope you enjoy them.
first up, I was recently a guest on the wackiest of all wacky blog talk radio (is it still called blog talk radio? I’m not sure) shows, The Funky Werepig, hosted by the ever-amusing and wonderful Greg Hall. in case you missed it, you can check it out via iTunes right HERE. lots of fun was had, especially the part where we did a duet of the Sonny and Cher classic, The Beat Goes On. we rocked the hell out of it.
next, I wanted to make readers aware of the new issue of Surreal Grotesque, which in addition to including a couple quick reviews of two of my books (THANK YOU, David William Gonzales!), is also just fascinating and gorgeous and if you like stuff that’s, well, surreal and grotesque I highly recommend checking it out.
And lastly, I thought I’d share this review of my latest release Mothman Emerged which was posted yesterday over at Antibacterial Pope. huge thanks to the ever-amazing Nick Cato for that one.
I think that might wrap this up for now. I’ll be back soon, with or without news. but now, I must search for warm (probably mismatched) socks, make some tea and then go outside to find beautiful October leaves to send to friends in different climes. gotta get on that. again, I hope you are well and happy and snuggled close to those who matter most. ❤
hey all! been a while, eh? life has been crazy busy for me lately and I haven’t been able to mess around on the internet as much as I have in the past. if I own you an email, please be patient. I’ll get back to you probably this weekend. if not, early next week.
that being said, I’ve also been getting a lot of requests for blurbs, etc. people sending me their books and whatnot, despite the fact that on my contact page I specifically request that people don’t do that. apparently, there are some folks who think that request must not apply to them, even though I have no idea who they are, never heard of them at all. if you are one of these people, I apologize for not getting back to you, but I don’t know how I can be any clearer on the matter. I don’t have time to read everything people send me-not to mention it’s not a smart thing to do, legally. so, you’re wasting your time and mine and your stuff gets deleted unread. if that makes me a bitch, so be it, but there are a lot of other people you can ask for blurbs and whatnot. please contact them instead.
so, now that that bit is out of the way, I can get onto the real purpose for this post which is that I have decided to take a sabbatical from writing. in truth, I’ve been on sabbatical for somewhere around a month, give or take, and I have felt amazing. like a huge weight has been lifted. it’s not easy to stop doing something you’ve done you’re whole life-even harder to stop thinking about that something-but I’m doing it and I’m currently much happier for it. the constant stress of deadlines-but mostly promotion-has taken it’s toll and I just need a break from it all. not sure how long that break will be, but I’ve got a lot of other things I’m interested in doing and just interested in, in general. I do a fair bit of activism type stuff that I don’t talk about online very often because I feel like my online presence is all about the fiction stuff, so I’ve mostly kept quiet about most other things. I’ll probably continue that thread for the time being, but you never know.
am I quitting writing for good? hell no. I doubt I could if I wanted to (and I DO kind of want to) but for now not worrying about it has been pretty blissful. so, mostly, I just want to say, that if my presence has diminished somewhat, that’s why. just doing other things that make me happy right now, which is what everyone should do, whenever possible.
I hope everyone out there is having a phenomenal autumn and that this post is okay, given that it’s been total stream-of-consciousness.
oh and one more thing before I go: I have a new book out called Mothman Emerged. check it out over there in the sidebar if you want. if not, that’s cool too.
with endless mad love,
g.
Because I still don’t have any official news yet (it’s coming very soon tho! I swear on the Flying Spaghetti monster!) I figured I’d pop in here and share one of my favorite Bukowski poems. I’m probably violating some sort of copyright rule, but eh. If you can’t beat ’em and all that. I hope he wouldn’t mind. 🙂
So You Want To Be A Writer
By Charles Bukowski
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.
don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
“While wandering a deserted beach at dawn, stagnant in my work, I saw a man in the distance bending and throwing as he walked the endless stretch toward me. As he came near, I could see that he was throwing starfish, abandoned on the sand by the tide, back into the sea. When he was close enough I asked him why he was working so hard at this strange task. He said that the sun would dry the starfish and they would die. I said to him that I thought he was foolish. there were thousands of starfish on miles and miles of beach. One man alone could never make a difference. He smiled as he picked up the next starfish. Hurling it far into the sea he said, “It makes a difference for this one.” I abandoned my writing and spent the morning throwing starfish.”
― Loren Eiseley
