A word to hexers, haters and jealous people in general
I am starting to take up art again, this time with an idea to try and make a living from it in a few months’ time, by then I would have developed friends in art and a little more self confidence in my painting work.
I am still sick, that is something that will never change, in fact recently I have been told it could get much worse, but I am trying hard to pull through and make some kind of a life for myself despite all of the bad mojo trying to pull me down every once in a while, you would think it would have something better to do than to concentrate on picking on me, but never mind, they love me so much they just can’t stop thinking about me, which in a dark and psychotic way is kind of nice of them to think so much of me, I don’t think anyone else does to be honest, which makes them my greatest lover I suppose?
Yes, recently I have started to believe I am cursed, but then what do you expect from someone who is both spiritual and a lover of horror movies? I’ve had such a long lasting run of bad luck with my health and personal life that I had to eventually come to the conclusion I have pissed off one too many witches during my life, for simply existing. Lol
Anyway on a more serious note, it is true; I do believe the above statement.
Despite this, I have to admire them for wanting to be involved in my life so much. Hate can be as deep as love and just as obsessive. In a strange kind of way, hate and love are the same thing, as you spend so much time thinking about the things you hate, like you do with special person you actually love, you give it the same attention, sometimes you even neglect the ones you actually love in favour of spending your time thinking more of the ones you hate. It’s a strange kind of world when you think about it.
So when all is said and done, I am quite flattered of the attention I am getting, no matter how abysmal it makes my life. I sort of feel sorry for the person who hates me to such a degree, because although I do not believe in karma, I do believe that you always reap what you sow and I believe in the sins of the father, despite not being a religious person personally. So in a manner, it is not me they are cursing, but their own children; which is painfully sad for me, to think about.
Despite these setbacks, I will try, no matter how much I cry in pain each day with my ailments, as I do cry – so do please, enjoy that statement dear haters as I am sure you will, I will try and get along in my life and make the best I can of the cards you are dealing for me. With a glad and happy heart, I will drag myself through the Hell you are creating for me and I will revel in any successes I may have in the future, whilst you are still sitting back on your posteriors, wishing that you had a taste of my supposed glorious life still. Well by all means, you are welcomed to having a full three course meal of my life, if you so wish for it, you are welcomed to it and I really do hope that you choke on it.
A writer’s thoughts
I have read somewhere in the past, that you are what you read and I believe that. The more I read the more defined my tastes have become, my skills, my genre leanings and this influences my writing and art.
With each good book I learn how I want to write and what I want to write about.
With each bad book I read, I learn how I do not want to write and what I dislike.
I do not believe that as a writer you must write things outside of your comfort zone, I believe you should be comfortable with what you are writing – although on an emotional matter, that’s quite different. You must write outside of your emotional comfort zone if you wish to write fear, pain and heartbreak effectively, unfortunately that means opening up your old wounds.
A lot of the time, I like to write about horror, trauma etc. and each time I do, I open up real and old wounds, this is why I often become quiet as a writer and have prolonged periods of not writing, whilst I emotionally recuperate.
I was once told that writers and artists generally go mad after a time and I believe it, we send ourselves mad for our art and stories because we are constantly reliving the horrors of our past for your entertainment and as a collective, we seldom are known or recognized for it.
I am not moaning about my lack of recognition as a writer and artist, because personally I think that’s my own fault. I think I am generally a lazy person and have not bothered to find myself a publisher or to advertise my work very much over the years at all. On the one occasion I did contact a publisher to see whether or not they liked an idea of mine, I was lucky enough to get a letter back within three weeks, but this terrified me, because they loved what I sent them and praised me highly for it; I never contacted them again, I was worried about becoming famous and at the time I was young and didn’t know about pseudonyms.
These days I am more prepared for whatever life throws at me because I will be totally blatant about what I can and cannot do and what I will and will not allow.
Other than twitter, my blog and magazines are there any other steps I should take to get myself known?
Please comment below.
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