Anxiety Attacks!

It's been a while, etc.

I can't say I'm going to be deep and meaningful, a fountain of wisdom here, but I've been hearing a lot about mental illness lately, specifically anxiety and depression. 

Writer Scott Lynch has had to put back the release of his next book due to his health issues, which I won't pretend to fully understand. Scott's one of my favourite writers, and it just feels so unfair that someone with so much talent should be battling such crises of confidence, and more. All too often, there's the assumption that creative types are always a little "eccentric" at best, so it tends to be something that's brushed under the carpet. If not that, then it's assumed the person will "snap out of it", sort themselves out and get better. Piece of cake, right?

Even from my limited knowledge, it's obvious that mental illness is a real medical condition that has to be treated, not just somebody being "down in the dumps", which I'm sure is somewhere we've all been a certain times in our lives. There are so many things that can get us down, piss us off, that it becomes difficult to cope, but we "bounce back" and life goes on. I suppose true mental illness is when we can't do that, and the struggle gets worse. Being physically ill has signs and symptoms - measles gives you spots, for instance - and, while anxiety and depression can also manifest themselves, it's deep inside where the damage can really be done. And this can be hidden, sometimes until it's too late. At least, that's what I believe. Like I say, I can't pretend to fully understand, but I can appreciate that it's a true illness, one that won't go away by reading motivational slogans on Facebook and Twitter.

I wasn't going to write this, afraid that I would be showing ignorance and misunderstanding - at worst, be offensive, which I don't mean to be - but something happened yesterday that really moved me, and I wanted to share it.

I'm 45 years old and I read comics. That sounds like a confession, but it's not. It's nothing I'm ashamed of, and there are some amazing tales, deep and profound stories, being told in that format. People may laugh, but so what? Those films you're flocking to see at the cinema? I was reading about those characters years ago...

This time, though, it wasn't the stories that moved me, but the letters from readers and the replies from writers and artists. It's ironic that Image Comics, purveyors of the muscles and tits and ass that made me give up on comics in the early 1990s, are now producing superb creator-owned titles such as Low and Lazarus that have valid and frightening commentaries on our society and selves. It's even more stunning to know that these works can have a  profound effect on their readers, often serving to help keep their heads above water in extremely difficult times.

That's why I wanted to write this. I'm about as far from an expert as you could get, but if just one person reads this and feels better, then it's a success. I'm like that with all my writing; that's always been my thought, that if I could make one single person feel better, then it's worthwhile.

And yet... I'm scared. Always have been. Even now, I'm debating if this post will see the light of day, wondering who'll care. I've been writing for decades now, but I've always held back at that last minute, only ever finished a handful of the ideas I've had. What use is an idea if it stays in your own head? Every day, I promise myself I'll write; when I do, I feel great, but when I don't I'm a grumpy bugger, lamenting what I haven't done and wondering what if. Lately, though, a few things have happening in my life that have got me thinking, made me reassess my priorities and goal. I need to make good on my promises, instead of letting myself get filled with stupid fear and apprehension. I often tell myself I'll "do it tomorrow"; well, today IS yesterday's tomorrow.

Like the readers whose letters I read, I'm finding myself inspired. Writers like Rick Remender, Monty Nero and Greg Rucka have, through their personal stories as well as their fiction, helped me battle my own personal demons (or laziness, depending on how you look at it). Author Sarah Pinborough made some comments on Twitter that boiled down to "just sit down and get on with it", which may be easier said than done, but it's what all the inspirational quotes are essentially saying. It's better to write crap that can be tidied up later, than not to write at all or - worse, in my opinion - talk about it but do nothing. 

There. I think I've said enough. I mentioned earlier that making the difference to one person would make this post (and everything else) worthwhile. Maybe, by getting these feelings off my chest and being able to look back on what I've written here, that person may prove to be me.

History Lessons

History is fascinating.

I've learned that this week, simply by dipping my toe into the waters of research for no more than fifteen to twenty minutes. The sad thing - which I'll brush over, although I'm sure it's incredibly important - is that humanity doesn't seem to have learned too many lessons over that last couple of centuries. Wars are still fought for all the wrong reasons (is there a good one?), the divide between rich and poor is huge, and politicians are still, well... politicians, I guess.

A bfief aside: Tony Benn has died in the last week and, whatever may have been thought of him, I'll always remember him (albiet vaguely) as someone who stood up for what he believed and never swayed from it. His best quote? I'd go for "I left parliament so I could become a politician", which sums it all up quite nicely. Aside ends.

What's amazed me about my research is the discovery of what's happened over the last two-hundred years in the area where I live. It's steeped in history, both good and bad, most of which has come as a surprise. Bryan Talbot's Alice In Sunderland had much the same effect, making me feel sadly ignorant of the nearby world around me. I've known about the myths of dragons in these here parts, but to know that I may have walked on the same paths as Lewis Carroll is equally amazing.

Anyway, all this history has given me a world for my two characters - Adamson and Wood - to inhabit. That world ties in with a role-playing campaign I'm about to start, along with a completed short story set several decades later in the 1960's. And, while I'm still riding on the enthusiasm I encountered at Newcastle Film and Comic Con, if there's anyone in the know who would like to help me create a comic based on any of the above, I wouldn't be adverse to having a chat.

I'm ridiculously excited about all of this, and enjoying the writing too, in a way I haven't been since finishing my fantasy novel Requiem for the Grey Man. A couple of years of struggle, trying to come up with the next 'great' idea, have resulted in several starts, but nothing concrete, other that that short story I've just mentioned. I'm feeling good about this one.

May's Days

May's a hectic month. There's lots going on with the day job and the wedding plans are continuing apace (less than two weeks to go and there's still a few things to sort out, but that's ok, right? I'm sure it'll all fall into place eventually.), so there's little free time.

I've managed to squeeze some time to write every day, but in some cases it's been as little as a few words, sprinkled with some punctuation here and there to form a coherent sentence. I'm ok with that, given what's happening at the moment, but there's something thats got me frustrated.

I'm starting fresh. Creating new characters and new worlds. New worlds? Should I just set it in a near-mythical England, something where it's all forest and always raining, sort of a pre-Arthurian genre? Or do I populate a planet of my own creation with strange races, create a landscape that is purely my own, throwing a dragon in for good measure? That's my trouble - I'm happy with my main character's journey, but I don't know where he lives. There are pros and cons for both ideas, too many to put down here (trust me, I wrote a list) but my usual themes of self-sacrifice, redemption and the true meaning of courage are still there; they're universal, so can be applied anywhere.

Years ago, when I was more ill-disciplined than I am now, I'd find myself influenced by everything I watched and read. It's starting to get that way again, and it's annoying. Not just to me, I'd imagine; When I get this way become a surly, grumpy creature, head down and dragging my feet, like some miserable hulk. I don't want to be the next [insert favourite author name here] or write a story thats simply a rehash of something from a different genre (although I hear "Wagon Train in space" proved popular a few years ago...) or a combination of other successful things. I want to be original, write a story that appeals to me as a reader. I'd want it to be published, or course, but I'm a firm believer that you can't write for what you think that market wants to read. Write from the heart, the passion will shine through, and it will be good enough. All so very simple.

At the moment, my favourite TV series currently showing is Vegas. No sci-fi elements at all, so it should normally be something that falls into the 'worth a watch' category. Yet, it has great characters, whose actions are driving a superb plot. The actors are brilliant too (it's good to see Dennis Quaid back, seeing him always reminds me of Willis Davidge from Enemy Mine), working with excellent writing to create something very special. There isn't a character you can't identify with - or, dare I say, even sympathise with - which is what makes Vegas appeal to me. Yet, as good as those characters are, the world they inhabit influences them, for good or for ill. That's why it's so important I get my world right. Writing's hard, but nothing worthwhile is ever easy, and I'm not going to give up.

W is for Words

"Words are meaningless, and forgettable." That's a line from my favourite Depeche Mode song, Enjoy The Silence; ironic, as I'm such a fan of words and writing. While the Mode would have you believe words are "very unnecessary" and "they can only do harm", there's obviously a lot more to them than that.

It's true that words can harm - a vindictive comment can have more lasting resonance than a physical blow - used as weapons to hurt, but that's just one side of the coin. The right words at the right time can bring comfort, joy and hope; in doing so, they can even save lives. Actions speak louder than them, but once the action is done, the word remains; written down, printed, stored on a server, it lasts longer, it resonates throughout the ages.

Writing is obviously all about words. Choosing the right ones, stringing them together to form a sentence, a paragraph, a page, a chapter, a (gulp) novel. I was once asked why I do it. My answer? "I can't not write." It really is that simple; I get restless if I don't write, frustrated at myself for not spending the time at the screen or the sheet of paper. I love to learn a new word - my current favourite is 'crepuscular' - but it's knowing when and where to use it that really counts. There are times when it's easy, others when it's incredibly difficult. Ironically (again!), the latter can be when it's most rewarding.

W is also for weary. Which is what I am now. It's been a busy week at work, hence my writing this at almost nine in the evening rather than six in the morning. I couldn't not do it, though; only three more letters to go, and that's the challenge complete. I'm pleased (well, amazed) that I've made it this far. Well done to everyone else who's done so - not long now, my friends, not long now.

R is for Rejection

Rejection, the writer's least-favourite word. It means a letter in the post, or an email, saying the agent or publisher doesn't consider your story or novel worthy of publication. Reading between the lines, that correspondence is telling you that you're writing isn't good, your characters are weak, your plot is paper thin; it asks why you've even bothered.

That's not true, of course. It can feel that way; it certainly did when I sent my first short story to a magazine over twenty years ago. Looking at that letter now, it's kindly written and offers solutions to what the reader thought were the problems. Back then, it made me give up and - two decades on - that story's still in the same plastic folder gathering dust. A couple of years after sending it away that first time, my mum asked why I hadn't done what the reader had suggested. I had no answer, no logical one at least, and all I could do was shrug my shoulders.

My latest short story - an urban fantasy set in 1960's Paris - has been rejected twice. Rather than give up on it, I've actually been encouraged by the comments. The first suggested it could be expanded into novella length or beyond, while the second felt sure that, although the story was not for them, I shouldn't have trouble finding a home for it in the future. Kindly written, just like that one twenty years ago, only now I'm mature enough to see that.

I've written before saying that courage is about facing fears rather than not having them in the first place, and fear of rejection can stop a person doing many things. We've got to take chances in life, have that courage to do what we believe, have the strength to carry on no matter what people think. Don't give up; keep going, and eventually there will be success.

P is for Posts

I didn't expect to get this far, to be honest. Yet, here it is, my sixteenth post in the A To Z Challenge. Statistically, that's twice as many this month so far than in the almost two years preceding it since this blog was created. Sounds good, but it really means I've been poor at posting in the past.

I was going to stop blogging before I'd heard about the challenge (ha! I practically already had!). It wasn't that I didn't have anything to say, just didn't feel I had the time to say it. I do, of course, as this month is proving; it's just a case of getting my backside in the chair and fingers to the keys. Posts don't have to be a work of art (at five thirty in the morning, this one certainly isn't!) - they're not getting sent to a critic for review - but they're a great way for people to express themselves, comment on what they like.

Looking back over my A to Z posts so far, there doesn't seem to be one common theme. I write about TV shows old and new, writing and reading, my cat - I even attempt poetry, something which I've never done before. I'm not breaking new ground, but I am sharing my thoughts and opinions, which was the purpose of creating my blog. "Musings on writing, reading and life" it says; I guess that's about right.

It's funny, as there have been times when I've set out to write about one thing and ended up going on about another. This one was originally going to be about Person Of Interest, currently one of my favourite TV shows at the moment, but I'm sure I'll go into that in greater detail in the future. While I won't blog every day, I plan to post once a week after the challenge - no more Procrastinating (another P I considered), as it's doing so that has meant only eight posts in twenty or so months.

What began with such good intentions has withered and almost died, but now it's back. I'm glad I've Persevered (again...), possibly I thought I had to be witty or profound, deep and meaningful with each post, but I'm finding that I'm enjoying writing words that come from the heart. I doubt I'll change the world, but if I can raise a smile or cause a nod of agreement, I'll be happy.

I is for Impasse

Today's been a struggle, for the first time since starting the A To Z Challenge. I've started on several topics, ranging from Ithaca to Indiana (Jones, that is) to Imagination (which will, according to 80's singer Belouis Some, make a man of you) - but only got as far as a sentence on each before stalling. There. I'm ahead already.

The dictionary defines an impasse as 'a situation with no possible progress or escape'. Well, it certainly felt that way this morning: I powered on the laptop as usual, sat in front of it, ready to regale everyone with my shining wit, then... nothing. Just a few words, barely strung together, the start with a capital letter and the end with a full stop (English) or period (American) were all that made it a coherent sentence. I washed breakfast dishes, hoping that a routine chore like that would cure this block, but nothing. The glasses and cups were nice and shiny though.

Normally when this happens, I make myself sit at the desk until I write something - anything! - but I didn't have that luxury today as I had to go to work. Ten or so hours later, I was still no further forward - I'd reached my impasse.

So I've decided to write about it, and in doing so, I've got through it. So, I suppose the moral is to keep going, to keep writing; even when you think you can't, you actually can, but it sometimes takes time and defintely needs effort. And, in my case, several cups of tea.

As for Indiana Jones... well, that Map Room scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark sends chills up my spine every time.

Ithaca is a lovely island just off the coast of Kefalona. I visited there on a misty morning a few years ago, the land shrouded by fog making me think of Odysseus returning home - my Imagination at work.

C is for Concise

C may also be for controversial, as I put forward the following theory.

I'm not being sexist, or making sweeping assumptions, I don't intend to offend anyone (ok, enough disclaimers, get on with it!) but it's been my experience that men are more concise than women. A gent may say "I went shopping for brown shoes yesterday, couldn't get any so I bought black instead", while a lady may go into detail about which shops she visited, which shoes she tried on, etc. Not a bad thing (the woman's version is obviously painting a fuller picture, telling a more detailed story), just one of the differences I've noticed between lads and lasses. I'm sure it can be the other way round, too.

So, where's this going? Well, one of my favourite books on writing is Strunk and White's The Elements of Style, recommended by Stephen King in his brilliant On Writing, which is my other favourite book. Not only does it tell you where an apostrophe should slip in and how to un-split infinitives (that's the crew of the Enterprise going boldy, then...), but it also has the best advice I've ever been given when it comes to writing and editing, all about being concise (which I originally intended to be with this post). That advice?

Omit needless words.

Nuff said.

Cyberpunk'd

Last time (longer ago than I intended) I mentioned I was reading William Gibson’s novel Neuromancer. Well, not content with that, I followed with the sequels Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive.

I first read all three a shade over twenty years ago. They were futuristic then, and remain so today. The world of the ‘sprawl trilogy’ is one that still feels like it could happen a few decades into our future; frighteningly realistic, all Gibson didn’t predict is the expansion of the mobile phone (although one could argue that a deck is just that but on a larger scale, a sci-fi laptop) and the constant need for continual updates, one of which is probably running in the background as I write or you read.

Back then, Cyberpunk was my genre of choice, although it could be argued that its heyday was over by the early 90’s. Not only the novels, but there were also the role-playing games, such as Cyberpunk itself and Shadowrun. The latter combined cyberpunk and fantasy with brilliant effect (although the matrix was strangely dull, a conflict of colours and numbers that never truly gripped). Many Sunday afternoons were spent playing Shadowrun, and it remains my favourite RPG to this day.

A friend once said role-playing was a natural extension of reading, one where you could be the hero, affect the plot in a multitude of ways. Many nights in the pub have been spent reminiscing about the old times, talking about how we took on orc hordes, or had a bar fight with troll. Role-playing was a major part of my teens and early twenties, and would later be a reason to get all the lads together for a special occasion (my 40^th birthday is one I’ll never forget).

Books do the same. When I began Count Zero, I could remember where I was when I first read it; I could even recall one Saturday night when I ordered a pizza, and I’m sure I could smell it as I read. Very nostalgic. Not only that, but this re-read revealed more depths to the story than I’d originally thought; after all these years, it felt like a sharper read, the story lean and focused, so much more than just a variety of good ideas strung together.

That’s why I like books. Not only can they take you away from somewhere, but they can also take you back. People recall where they were when the Berlin Wall came down, I can tell you exactly where I was when I first read David Gemmell's Legend (loaned from the library one Tuesday afternoon in 1987, it went with me on a school trip the next day).

Writing’s the same. Although I’m less specific about dates, when it goes well, it feels brilliant. If it’s not going so good, it becomes a struggle, but once that’s bettered, it feels brilliant. So far this year, I’ve wrote every day, whether it be a line or a page, and the sense of achievement is great. It’s not just a case of putting pen to paper, or finger to key; the hardest thing is putting my backside in the chair to do either of those. With all of life’s distractions, it’s easy to put it off until tomorrow; I once read somewhere that ‘it’s easier not to write’, and that’s absolutely true. I might still have many episodes of recorded TV to watch, but I’ve finished editing my book and drafted two short stories. Guess what? It feels brilliant. Writers write, end of story.