Good evening, morning, afternoon, and night; it's been a while, too long, sad to say. Luckily, I'm back, and I've been busy.
A couple of years ago, I began writing. Yes, writing, that silly craft which has been slowly dying since anyone could mutter such silly words... Again, I'm babbling, but not really. I found myself in my writing, a fact that truly saved me. Over the past year, I really took a step back from the public eye to concentrate on what my writing would evolve into. It wasn't you, no, it was most assuredly me.
The noise became too much, the world was pressing its agenda (or so it felt like it), and I was being sapped of my will to create. But that's an excuse, really. Presently, I'm studying to become a teacher. I aim to earn my doctorate in English Literature/Creative Writing. I'm progressing quite well, but honestly, my work has only flourished from this hard-working goal. I want to thank a few people in my life before I continue.
Most importantly, my love, Lisa, she's helped me recenter my ideals, restructure for progress, and taught me again what it's like to be loved and feel loved. Another thank you to my mentor, Dr. Bryan Santin. You've shown me the power of collective discussion, the infinity of literature, and the influence of opening up. Finally, to my good friends; you know who you are, and you have many hugs coming.
To return, what's to say of all this heartfelt diction, this latter plea into the void? Well, as I've said, I've been quite busy. I've been writing a few things, most notably my new poetry collection, the spiritual sequel to my debut writing work, Blackjack-22: Modern Poetry (You can find the book page here).
But poetry? Why poetry? That medium is dead. Who has time to read such fancy, unintelligible romance? Well, I, the modern romantic, have a distinguished relationship with poetry, and this medium will forever sate my soul. It centers me, fills me to the brim with glee, and makes me question the objective reason, "why do I make art the way I do?"
Simply put, I'm here to make stories that you will question. Stories to perplex you, draw frustration out of you from the insanity, and make you question all you believe. It's harsh, I know, but I was talking with friends and was asked this question more than once. Poised by colleagues and acquaintances alike, I stood my ground and revolved; I'm here to write because stories are ideas, infectious, romantic, hopeful, cynical, authentic, and far from imaginary, but truly magick. They're infinite, so we can see into the mind of others, hoping to know we aren't alone.
This book, The Living Death: Windows into Existence, will explore the latter ideas. It's not only poetry (a varied sort of rhyme, pattern, prose, and observation) but also a story from beginning to end. It's a commentary on myself, the time we live in, the work that's being made at the moment, and the will from which we all choose to carry on.
And that's what it comes down to: the choice, the will, our decision to live, rather than wait for the inevitable. Notes of this theme were present in all my works, but this one blossomed into something far more than what I could have ever anticipated.
As teased on my media, I've been working hard on my newest novel, Passages, which I'm planning to pitch later this year. That book consists of three long-short stories and will centralize around the infamous theme of "rite of passage." It's a generational tale, one of magick, myth, choice, and age, but between writing Book One and Book Two, I hit a wall. I fell upon a choice, a terrible, terrible existential crisis: would I continue with this narrative or leave it for another time? I fell into melancholy, a deceitful reprieve of, "I can't do this. I can't write as well as I've done before," yet I found myself with a pen and paper once again.
Poetry flooded my heart. My soul screamed onto the page, and an entire collection formed within a month and a half. I didn't think these seemingly random pieces would amount to anything. Still, as I ran over my scribbled handwriting, I saw the collective story.
With the help of some friends and a great designer, partner-in-creative-crime, Isaac Child, we got this idea off the ground, ready for its release on March 11th, 2022, my birthday. A spiritual rebirth of sorts and a reinvigoration to writing and sharing stories.
Take a look, take a chance, make a choice. This is a story I wholly believe in, and I think you will too.
Switching gears, back to the realm we all love, welcome comics! Despite the hiatus from A Hell of Our Own and the unexpected halt in that story, Rogue Comix has churned out a decent amount of content since my last announcement in June 21'. Rogue Comix Presents: Volume One is available now, and within is a whole lot of short stories worthy of your eyes. It is the culmination of our talent showcases since the company's debut in 2020. Over two years' worth of artistic presentations that sought to uplift various upcoming and aspiring talents through multiple stories and emotions.
The collection includes Attom & Eternum, Siblings, Breathe, In Search of a Summit, To Maggie, The Cave Below Seaside Manor, In Shadow He Rides, 8.26, & the never-before-seen NeverRoad and Make Room. Check it out if you've loved any of the work my company has put out, and if not for yourself, spread it amongst friends.
In more comic news, the aforementioned Isaac Child and I embarked on a grand, ridiculous superhero satire titled Will Fyfer, The Graceless Ferret last Summer (Available here!). This story has been quite the adventure, and it's packed full of comedy, gracelessness, and ferret galore. It's something I never thought I'd be capable of writing, much less printing for a bi-monthly comic, but Isaac and I indeed created a spectacularly absurd little universe. We recorded an interview expressing our love for this series and an entertaining "on-the-record" of our partnership and our process. Here's the link; check it out, or click below.
So, I've been busy, yes, but the work continues, as is the dream. Awaken to life, experience rebirth, read on, and I'll see you soon. It's been a pleasure talking with you again. I missed you.