The Renegade Press

Tales from the mouth of a wolf

I recently read an article that said more than 95% of blogs fail within their first twelve months. The reasons for failure vary from a lack of readership, to loss of interest on behalf of the author, and everything in between. But regardless of why they fail, the number shocked me. As I mentioned in my previous post, I have been writing for this site for six years. I never envisioned that I would be one of the minority that made it.

I have always tried my hardest to write from the heart, and have told myself since the inception of this site that an author’s dreams are achieved when they move just one reader. But a friend recently brought to my attention that I have a subscriber list just shy of twenty thousand, and I felt that the milestone, coupled with the release of my sophomore novel, and my six year anniversary of blogging was worth acknowledging. 

Although I rarely acknowledge them, I know that I am incredibly fortunate to have had the successes I have had. So I wrote a letter to the man I was right back when my journey as a blogger began. I wrote him a letter to give him the strength to keep on writing, even in those moments when he feels like giving up. And because there are people who have been following this site ever since that man produced his very first entry, I wanted to share it with those that choose to read it. Raw, and unedited.  From the mouth of a wolf to the world eater I once was. 


Dear Chris,

It’s July 17th, 2012, and you’re sitting at your computer with tears rolling down your cheeks as the view counter of your new website sits at zero.  You’ve just posted the first blog you have ever written, and yet rather than feel proud at what you have achieved, you feel defeated. You’ve been having a rough time lately. In fact, you’ve been struggling with anxiety for as long as you can remember. I know it probably sounds like an exaggeration, but that post you just created, it’s going to alter the trajectory of your life from here on out. For better, or worse, you’re a blogger now. From this moment onwards, writing will be the cause of your sickness, and the cure to your disease.

I wanted to reach out to you, to tell you how proud I am of you for finding the bravery to post what you just did. It takes courage to not be afraid, and it takes strength to admit that you are weak.

I want to tell you about your future too. But before I do, I first need to acknowledge your past. You ended your post with a line that oozed apprehensive ambition, and it made me sad to read over it six years after it was originally produced. So, I want to repeat it back to you. I want you to read your own words and hear the pain in what you said. Then, before this letter is done, we’re going to talk it through.

Are you ready? Here it is:

Ten years from now, I want to be able to say that I had what it takes to look depression and misery in the eye, and tell it to fuck off.

You have already been writing for seven years at this point. You’ve had a few failed attempts at manuscripts, and even managed to complete one or two. Right now, you think what you have created is brilliant. But in time, you’ll come to understand just how terrible these initial scripts are. I know that it hurts to know how many agents and publishers have rejected your queries, and you feel humiliated that one piece of shit even took enjoyment in calling you out for a spelling mistake in your synopsis. You feel depressed that people don’t see the greatness inside of yourself that you do. But stick with it kid. Don’t ever lose hope. That character you have been writing about, Jason Dark, people are going to read his story one day.

Three years from now a company in the United States is going to publish the first of what is supposed to be a four-book series featuring him, and for a few brief moments, you’ll feel on top of the world. But before you reach what you will misconstrue as the summit of your achievements, you’re going to crash and burn. More than once.

That depression you spoke about? It’s going to get a whole lot worse. You’re going to push yourself to breaking point more times than you’ll ever be comfortable admitting. You’re going to set fire to manuscripts, destroy relationships, alienate your readers, and push yourself into a place so fucking black you won’t even be capable of finding the path you trod to get there.

Despite your own self-loathing, the number of views on your page is eventually going to tick past zero. Yet even though someone, somewhere is reading, you’re going to grow frustrated that so few care about what you’re going through, and the pains you have endured to blog about it. In the first six months of your website’s existence, less than a hundred people are going to view your work. Considering how hard you’re going to plug yourself to you friends via social media and in person, it’s going to make you feel as though you’re a failure.

This disappointment is going to make you begin to despise other writers. You’re going to be jealous of them, and you’ll begin producing posts laced with venomous undertones, telling anyone who will listen that they are undeserving of their successes. In hindsight, I can tell you that you shouldn’t judge them so harshly. One day you will learn to not only appreciate your fellow blogger, but also to use negativity as a fuel for your creative fires.

A few years now someone will tell you that you have no place in the literary industry, and you’ll use their criticism as motivation to publish an article with a website that receives over 18 million views a week. And the other bloggers; the ones you feel you need to destroy… Some of them are great writers, and wonderful people. Right now, your own frustration and insecurity are obscuring your ability to appreciate them, and to learn from their achievements. But you’ll get over that in time. And when you do, you’ll understand that we all have our own realities, and that it’s wrong for you to assume that you are the only person who knows what it feels like to hurt.

Speaking of hurting…

Your depression is going to really hurt your ability to resonate with an audience. Your first two years of blogging is going to be a shit storm of self-loathing, hate, and terrible metaphors that people struggle to palate. But then, in December 2014, you’re going to start to change. You’re going to start to become a man.

You’ll write a post about broken windows in response to a terror attack, defending a religion you have no affiliation with. The post will polarize your readers. Some will appreciate your ambition and willingness to take a stand. They will respect your appeal to the better angels of our nature, and offer their camaraderie and support. But many will call you an idealist, a child, and far worse. You’ll receive death threats, emails which consist of passages of scripture, and even see your name and photograph defamed on websites dedicated to intolerance.

It’s going to scare you. But you’ll fight back. You’ll give as good as you get, threatening to protect your beliefs with bloody knuckles and an acid tongue. Your war of words with one reader will escalate so rapidly that your partner and family will become concerned, so you’ll try to make peace by writing a post about bygones being bygones.

But the olive branch you extend is only going to make things worse. The reader will threaten to attack you, call your mother names, and claim that he is doing so in the name of his God. Unfortunately for him, you never really forgive him for this. The idea that anyone would use their faith as a means of projecting hate makes you feel ill. You’ll probably find it funny to know that six years later, you’re still dishing out his email address to every spam list that you can find. You know it’s a little immature to do so… but, fuck him. He shouldn’t have said what he did about your mum.IMG_4646

In 2015, you’ll publish a book, grow an audience, and begin to make a name for yourself. You’d never believe it, but a few months after your book is released, people are going to start contacting you to ask if you’d like to be interviewed on their radio shows and websites. They’re going to tell you that they enjoy your work, and ask if have any words of wisdom for up and coming bloggers. Your writing is going to improve a lot in this time. You’ll begin weaving the positivity that has begun to blossom inside of your chest through your words. Shit, you’re going to feel so goddamn good that you start sharing fictional pieces on your website too. I know that sounds great in theory. Believe me when I say that I once thought it was too. But after a while it’ll dawn on you that your mother and little sister have read pieces you’ve written about undressing a woman and feeling her writhe beneath your sheets.

And then, just when you feel like you have found your purpose in life, everything is really going to go to shit.

You’re going to live through a period of eighteen months during which two friends will take their own lives, the girl you thought you’d marry will walk out on you, you’ll have a health scare that is going to make you more afraid than you have ever been, and your publisher will tell you that they no longer wish to represent you.

You’re going to hit rock bottom, Chris. And you’re going to hit it real fucking hard. Your family and friends are going to be concerned about you. They’re going to fret for months about how different you have become. Your mother is going to ask you repeatedly if you need professional help, and if you have had thoughts of suicide. Your father will end a phone call by telling you ‘not to do anything stupid’, and unbeknownst to you, your friends will band together to make sure that someone is always watching over you whenever possible.

During this period, you’ll lose weight, quit writing, and get so sick that company you work for will ban you from showing up until you agree to visit a psychologist. Your writing will become macabre again. The confidence that once shined in your work will be shattered, and you’ll begin embracing analogies about flowers and heartbreak as a means of coping.

You’re going to be so lost inside your own depressive mindset that even though you tell your mum that you’ve never thought about giving up, you will. A lot. In fact, there’s going to be a few moments where the only thing that saves you is the knowledge of how painful it was when your friends took their lives, and your refusal to put the people who love you through that agony again.

Eventually you’ll find a way to start over, and you’ll begin writing a love story so that you can experience the happy ending you believe will forever allude you. You’re going to cry your way through the early stages of the first draft, and much of what you produce will need to be rewritten. But the project will ultimately become something you are truly proud of.

Writing about selflessness and love is going to teach you so much about who you are, who you have been, and who you want to become. Despite having drafted the sequel to your debut novel, you’ll abandon it and decide to publish your love story instead. You’ll distribute it yourself too. After years of viewing self-publishing as an act of creative defeat, you’ll decide not to follow the traditional publishing route when you realise that you’re more concerned with sharing what you have created with those who choose to read your work, than chasing down publishing contracts and mass market appeal.

The novel will come out just a few weeks before I write you this letter. It’s release, coupled with the realization that I have been blogging for six years, are the catalysts for this letter. See, I’m about to turn 30 in a few months, which has prompted me to think a lot about my past. Call me melancholy for doing so, but I just can’t help but turn my attention to where I have come from so that I can understand where I am heading in the future. Maybe it’s because some of the places that I have been, that you are yet to go, aren’t so great. Maybe I’m trying to disprove the sentiment people have often told me that the best indicator for future behavior is past behavior.

Whatever the reason for my looking back to progress forward, it was by doing so that I came to find the quote we both penned on July 17th, 2012 that I spoke of above. I looked right back on where my blogging journey started, and realised just how far I have come in the past six years. When I started blogging I was afraid, downtrodden, and lost. Just like you are right now. You just wrote a post about your father nearly dying, and how afraid you are to know that your little brother is struggling with anorexia.  Now here I am six years later telling you that Dad is still kicking along, and your brother, he got his shit together, and he’s actually accomplished a hell of a lot more than most 22 year olds.

Perhaps you’d like to know that I’m not lonely, downtrodden, or lost anymore either. I feel like you’ll be excited to know that those feelings will pass. These days I’m a confident, proud, and happy near 30-year-old with two published novels to his name. I am also a son, a brother, a lover, an uncle, and although you won’t understand this analogy just yet, I’m a fucking wolf. And one day, you will be too.

Six year ago, when I was you, I told myself that a decade into the future I wanted to be able to say that I overcame depression and misery. But it turns out that I didn’t have to wait that long. And neither will you. Because we’re one in the same; perfectly imperfect in every single way. The next few years are going to fly by, so try to appreciate the small moments of happiness you will inevitably experience as best you can. Because it feels like just yesterday that it was July 17th, 2012 and I was sitting exactly where you are now.

I started writing because I feared who I was. But six years later, I continue to write because I’m damn proud of who I have become, and because I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to change anything about the path that I have walked. I know that you ended your first post by saying you wanted to tell depression to fuck off. Believe me, there was a time when I wanted to say that too. But I felt I needed to write to you and say you never will. Not because you lose your battle; but because you’ll learn that you can’t fight fire with fire, and you’ll kill depression with kindness instead.

Keep your chin up, Chris. Keep writing. And always remember that no matter how bad life may seem, there is always the possibility for it to get better. You just have to give it a a chance.

Yours Truly,

Chris Nicholas

314 thoughts on “Epoch

  1. As a ‘fresh off the block’ brand new blogger with only 54 followers, this is extremely inspiring. Thank you for becoming a part of my community otherwise I would never have seen this post. And yes …I was feel type discouraged.

  2. Have to agree with 95% 🙂 I stopped after 6 months, then got back after 8 🙂

    1. Good to hear. Good for you 🙂

  3. Niki Flow says:

    This letter is such a gift. Thank you for sharing it. I wish I had gotten this letter when I was young. I’m a grandmom now and just starting to be able to share my stories. So I’ll share this with my children and, when they’re older, with my grandchildren. My granddaughter is already, at 5, starting to write stories. I’m so thrilled to see this passion in her. Chris, I’m so glad I found your blog today. The subtitle, I admit, caught my eye. My pen name is an anagram of “wolf – i – kin.” I published a blog on Blogger years ago that has been dormant, Conversations with Rowdy, about the talks my wolf Rowdy. Rowdy lived Mission Wolf, and I “adopted” him and another wolf, “Rogue” in ’97. In 2002 Rowdy died. Mission Wolf kindly sent me a beautiful big photo of him. He found a mate while there (Luna) and the last years of his life were very happy. One day I was meditating. To do this, I would go ice skating on a big frozen lake in my imagination. It’s probably not how it’s taught, but it’s the best way I found of calming my mind. One day, Rowdy jumped over a snow bank and knocked me flat. My beloved wolf was alive in spirit. Our conversations started that day. I shared some online for years, and then deleted everything. Then I started again, but fear and self-loathing and that same old “what gives you the right” or “who do you think you are to write” and “how in the world can you help anyone, as … as you are…” — all those limiting beliefs came roaring out. Then in 2014, a writer on Twitter challenged me to “do something about it” after a conversation about homelessness. Well, by this time my panic disorder was so bad I was basically agoraphobic. So I started a new blog. From there came my heart songs, under1000skies and Volunteer Biographers. We really can do things with great love, even small things, as Mother Teresa said so beautifully. So my blogs became my small things with great love. Thank you Chris, so much, for being brave, for pushing past all your own fears and limiting beliefs, and most of all, for sharing your heart to light the path ahead for others. With gratitude and hugs, ♥. Niki

  4. Niki Flow says:

    Oops sorry. Palindrome, not anagram!

  5. Thank you for this post! Speaking from a place of authenticity and pain can be gut wrenching and I completely relate to the lack of “likes” or views. But I keep writing and as I write it brings me healing. To find my voice and to write unapologetically is a huge kick in the face to all those who tried to destroy me. I am a survivor and a daily overcomer to the pain I hid for 40 years, I found my voice and I am never turning back! 💗

  6. Thank you so much for the inspirational words… I’m like .. 4 months through and honestly even I had those thoughts.. many a times.. I feel as if I’m never gonna be a decent writer .. but now I’m gonna keep writing.. keep improving myself till I actually make it .. just like you did.. many thanks again!

  7. Robert Varga says:

    Very, very inspiring to read, and motivating!

  8. Wow! Your words are very encouraging for writers who need that recognition to feel accepted. I started blogging almost 5 years ago as a challenge to see if I could blog every day for a year. It’s almost 5 years and I’m addicted. I didn’t write for others, I wrote for me. When I started getting regular followers of friends and family, I was excited. But, when total strangers started reading and following, I was not only thrilled, but I made some new long distance friends who I’ll pribablh never meet. I think the greatest secret to blogging is expect nothing, share your thoughts, and read other people’s posts and learn every day. Thanks for your insight.

  9. Incredible, what an article. Sincere thanks.

  10. FanBase365 says:

    I’ve only just started following your channel and read your latest. What you have achieved is something to be extremely proud of. Your writing is so powerful and engaging, you are exactly the sort of person who deserves the success you have experienced. I myself am in the very early stages of a blog in a very different sort of area to you but I would be so pleased if I can achieve anything close to what you have. Well done and keep doing what you’re doing!

  11. I don’t know where you get your pictures, but man, they’re fantastic.

    Good write up, and an incredible piece of advice. Danke Schorn.

    1. Hey William. Great to hear from you. A lot of my imagery comes from a site called Unsplash.
      It’s a collection for photographers and artists who share their images with others to use however they see fit. It’s free to join, and a fantastic way to add some colour into my work. If you’re looking for some amazing imagery, I’d definitely recommend checking it out.

      1. How generous of you to share that. Great article. Very encouraging. Thank you 🙂

  12. flylady33 says:

    I have a niche subject for a blog. I write about women in aviation because my aunt was a pilot in the 30’s. I appreciate your honesty because I think I’ll never grow my blog because of my subject. Your letter has filled me with inspiration to keep on keeping on. I have 300 followers and that seems tiny compared to your blog. I am going to print up your letter and highlight the sentences that resonate with me. Thank you for this heartfelt post.

  13. Maryann_J says:

    Wow such a long and touching letter to yourself. I hope to tell my future self ‘you made it’ when I get as much followers as you. Please follow me too. Thanks

  14. julie says:

    You have a wisdom beyond your years, and a lot of which to be proud. “Kill depression with kindness,” indeed! Well done!

  15. tastybiteweb says:

    This was great! Glad you held on! There’s a purpose and reason you persevered and are still here.

  16. My Writings says:

    What a post. l feel small but inspired

  17. inkedt says:

    Very inspiring, especially for someone has just started and has maybe 15 readers a day. It makes me want to keep going, to keep writing regardless of what the view counts are.

  18. Poignant words. I agree, be the wolf. Wolves are such misunderstood animals…I suppose writers are also, often, misunderstood.

  19. Rohit Prakash says:

    I have just started and felt as if this is happening with me….i hope it ends the same as well…

  20. YES! YES! and YES!

    Do you feel depression, anxiety, etc… target creative people?

    I too have… what should I call them… character traits… that make every day different. It’s good to read from others who do and conquer.

    Be blessed!

  21. Gordon says:

    Very interesting blog. Very interesting letter. Depression? Yep. I have fought it for years. Blog? Yep. Been trying to build one for years. Books written? Yep. Been trying to find an agent for what I have written so far. 3 books of poetry. 1 crime novel. 1 true crime. And writing more. I get frustrated when I look at the counter and find 3 people had looked, and then 1, and then 5, and then…..well you get the point. You’ve been there.

  22. mike2all says:

    Reading this reminded me of myself. Really well-wriiten piece that resonated with this writer who puts things out there because he needs to do so. I keep on going, and going, and going…because it keeps me going.

    Have a ‘good’ Christmas Day, Chris. And keep on going.


  23. gypsysoulsun says:

    I appreciate your brutal honesty and perseverance in life and blogging. Thank you!

  24. This is a great post. Thank you for sharing your experience, both with writing and with anxiety/depression. I have been blogging since February 23rd, 2017. I write almost daily, missing a few days here and there, each month, but not many. I started my blog because I am one of those “weird” people who actually enjoy the writing process. It is also cathartic for me and I feel I can express myself so much better in the written word than a spoken one. This past week I had to make a decision about whether to apply for a job (one I really want and think would be a good fit or run for school board). I did not want to attempt to do both. But, what my decision really came down to is having my blog continue. I felt, due to some past experiences, that if I ran for the board, my blog was going to cease, be censored, or worse – be used against me. My blog (writing) is something I’ve built (like you) from nothing, from just persevering and sitting down each day to write it and share my thoughts. I do not want it to end. I have a small readership, one that grows slowly each week. I have a voice, and I, like you, want to continue to use it! So, congratulations on your success as a blogger, your success as an author, and your success in sharing your struggles. I am sure you have inspired many a blogger to continue with your open letter to yourself (which was very creative, BTW). Kudos! I look forward to reading more, Chris! Thanks, again!

  25. Chloe Alice says:

    Very inspiring thankyou for the honesty

  26. Raw and inspiring without question. Prepare for destruction, and suit up for battle with belief, perseverance, and faith. I so enjoyed this read, and it felt like it was written for me alone. Just hit ten likes this week. Already ran out of tears. Hahaha!

  27. DivingIn says:

    I have really enjoyed reading this Chris.

  28. lettersquash says:

    Hi Chris, thanks for your courageous writing, and thanks for liking my latest post. It takes a lot for me to find anything particularly inspiring these days, so it was refreshingly weird reading Ineffable and this, Epoch, and being unable to get as far as having breakfast. I’m very aware that my response is because we have a lot in common. I struggled with anxiety and depression a lot, had/have ambitions as a writer (and a bunch of other things in my case), and went through some of the learning you describe in these posts. I had parents telling me to get psychological help, a lover left me out of the blue, that kind of thing. I’ve been blogging ten years, but I don’t talk about these things, and that was the other thing that really struck me as I read yours – I’m not quite sure why I don’t. I think the honest answer is that it’s a long while back and I’ve moved on from much of it (although life still keeps challenging us in all sorts of ways, and more serious and un-fixable ways as you get older). Yes, that’s it, life stages. I’m nearly twice your age, and the mythic-epic quality of a young person’s battles with themselves and others (which you remind me of so well) change at some point, if we’re lucky enough. Yet they have some of the same stuff in there, finding accommodations between two things that could slide into the other – acceptance without resignation; self-love and promotion without egotistical attachment. They go on. Being old and healthy, I spend a little time feeling a weird guilt-fear-gratitude, knowing that at some point I’m likely to be old and ill, and/or not here anymore. You’ve reminded me that I need to re-engage with my inner life, and I thank you for it. All the best with your writing and life’s journey. John.

  29. mitchteemley says:

    What a journey you’ve taken, Chris. And, of course, the best is yet to come!

  30. Fox Michaels says:

    Thank you for this candid, and powerful post.

  31. Mackie Masim says:

    Long tough read. But it hits the mark for me. Thanks for sharing.

  32. fannywrites says:

    You are very young. I’m a senior citizen plus with very few followers on my blog. But I keep writing(for children), not only for my pleasure but also for my grandchildren. Over the last six years, my short stories have been published by a nonpaying magazine. Still, they are publishing credits. The adage is that it takes ten years of writing to learn the craft. 2019 is my tenth year. Because of my age, I’m kind of in a hurry. You have years ahead of you You’re committed and self knowing. You’ll be all right!

    1. Dearfriends says:

      Yes, pleased to know that it is a te year grind before you emerge as a writer who can be taken seriously. So happy to know that y u are writing for children. Chris is a star with this blog under his belt and we all admire him for surviving what he’s been through The gain is obvious in the way he confidently communicated about it all with such stark clarity. Kudos to him but a special thanks to you agai for writing for children.

  33. Stephen C says:

    Hi, thought I would stop by and say thanks for the like on the bookmarks, then I found myself staying awhile and hitting the follow button… positive things happen to positive people…

  34. Eliney says:

    Thanks so much for liking one of my posts.You’re only the second person who did that. It means a lot since I just started blogging.

  35. I gave up my first blog when the host site disappeared. I gave up my second when I realised I was just looking online for ‘news’ to pass on. My current one I will keep going because (1) I would probably be keeping a journal anyway (2) I now feel I have ‘found my own voice (3) Knowing there is a (small) audience helps me try to do my best (4) Some days what I write isn’t published in the end bit at least I’m writing something (nearly) every day. Life has its ups and downs but wherever you are and however you feel, it’s good to know that things can get better even if it doesn’t always feel that way.

  36. Mysoulitude says:

    Such a heart-felt post! A beckon of light for bloggers like me who are struggling with readers. Thank you for writing this.

  37. Thank you so much for sharing. What a read 🙏

  38. Dearfriends says:

    Reblogged this on La jazz and commented:
    Perfect for blogging inspiratio Read it like having my morning tea…refreshed.

  39. shaemadigan says:

    Thanks for your attention, Chris. For me, this is a paeon and a cautionary tale wrapped into one. Many thanks.

  40. Belinda Norton says:

    From a wolfess to a wolf, that is howling impressive. X

  41. Liam says:

    What a beautiful, insightful, honest and moving post. Proud to be a new subscriber. I hope you are still blogging for many more years.

  42. Laura Laakso says:

    What an incredibly honest post. Few have the courage to speak that openly about depression and the darker parts of what life can be like. I wish you the very best with your latest novel and your writing going forward. May the wolf in you keep the black dog at bay.

  43. Denny K says:

    Awesome journey you’re on. Thanks for sharing it.

  44. There aren’t words to say how much this post impacted me. I laughed about you the email spamming thing. *thank you* for making me laugh on a tough night…hello wrestling with depression and anxiety attack :/ ..Thank you for reaching out through space, and connecting to another heart. You DO know you do this right? This post wakes me up to how much someone’s writing can really impact someone. I forget this. Your post also encourages me HUGELY in my dreams of writing…to not give up and to pursue them! I could identify with parts of your journey. … I’m glad i read this blog. You stretched my smile muscles, gave my heart hope…where an hour ago, there were tears and anxiety. You gave a better boost then my pain meds…my soul thanks you. I look forward to reading more of your work! And congratulations on your INCREDIBLE perseverance and successes! Smiling big for you:)

  45. kathyd65 says:

    Chris – That is some authentic shit! Your heart pours through each line and reminds me that we all live a roller coaster life – and some roller coasters are not for the meek. Thanks for the truth. and the encouragement, and a renewed hope in the future from the past. Never Give Up. Sending you love, Kathy

  46. kvennarad says:

    Firstly, thank you for your recent visit to ‘kvennarad’.

    I have been blogging for years, and despite frequent blocks and depressions I seem not to be part of the 95%. But hardly anyone reads any of my blogs. Why don’t they? Why do I continue? Why do I hardly ever ask myself these questions? Let me see if I can tot up the number of blogs I have…

    1) I abandoned mairibheag.blogspot (because hardly anyone was reading it) although it remains as an archive, and set up ladywotwrites.wordpress, for humour, satire, and political comment, because someone told me I had a vlice and a way of looking at the world that ought to be heard. It seems to have degenerated into a series of TV reviews, but what the hell, hardly anyone reads it.

    2) is my authorship blog, where I put news (none at the moment) and some short stories. One of the internet’s best-kept secrets

    3) kvennarad.wordpress, which is my regular poetry blog.

    4) lithopoesis.wordpress, where I ran a specific poetry project in 2010 – last entry 2012 – and which I have kept up as an archive.

    5) spacewalk101.wordpress, which is a collaboration between myself and someone who makes ‘parade throws’ for a sci-fi krew in the New Orleans Mardi Gras. Nothing since January 2018, but I keep it open in case I’m asked for more.

    6) world2wo.wordpress – little used, arcane, weird. Must go back there, if there is a ‘there’ to go back to.

    Three years ago, I was in the middle of writing two novels. I needed a break. I took a break. I haven’t touched either novel since. One of them is the novel I always wanted to write. Maybe I was kidding myself. God, this comment is a depressingly self-indulgent wallow!

    A cup of tea is called for.

    The thing about cups of tea is that they never come when summoned – you have to go and make them. Hey! – homespun zen lesson there! 😀

    1. kvennarad says:

      Ah… that reminds me… I forgot thezenspace.wordpress, the ezine I edit.

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