Even with the most acclaimed of television shows, I am still able to keep my composure. Not even Game of Thrones was able to take my soul hostage until I finished each and every episode. I had control… I usually always have control. That was until ‘Please Like Me’. After subjecting myself to the ingenuity of the pilot episode, I subsequently finished all four seasons in a matter of days. Continue Reading
“You look like a giraffe”, “gay bald ginger”, “Damn your foreheads gigantic.”
That is a mere goody-bag of what is said about me on the internet. The reality is, people don’t like me. I am in a homosexual relationship, I have an abnormally large forehead, my voice is high, I have freckles and I openly share my opinions. Those attributes come together to create difference and even though we are living in a progressive era, those who are different are still crucified… I am crucified.
This article does not contain a cure. I am unsure of how to open the minds of the ignorant and fill them with the knowledge that we are all collectively human. I wish I could do that but the history of this world has taught me that no matter how hard you try, some people will always be left unconvinced. On that basis, I only want to share with you what I am sure of; myself. Continue Reading
I did it. Somehow I did it. I logged into my laptop, pulled up Microsoft Word and let my fingers bleed onto the keyboard. When I began writing, I had a story in mind but after the first sentence, the nature of that story changed. I think that’s the reality of writing a book. With each sentence comes new possibilities. The writing process is therefore indistinguishable from the moving stairs in Hogwarts because new paths are constantly being made and destroyed. How thrilling… right?
Yes and no. Yes in that your story comes to life and is given the ability to rewrite itself in ways that you never imagined. No in that it sometimes feels like you don’t have control, which is a very strange feeling considering you are the one writing the story. Continue Reading
I want to know. In fact, I need to know. How does one dedicate their entirety to writing a book? How do they sit their for hours and hours, consumed by the words that bleed from their pens? How do they sacrifice a significant period of time for a story that may not be good enough? These are the questions that have kept me from sleep. I just don’t understand. How do people do it?
I know that I am a writer. It is one of the very few things that I am sure of. I pick up a pen or rest my fingers against keyboard, and the pain within me finds refuge. It still very much exists but I begin to understand its existence and that is enough to keep me writing forever. Continue Reading