Eidolon: Favorite Read of 2016

Following on the heels of Horror Novel Reviews including Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast in its Best of the Year list, Zakk over at Ex Libris The Eyes of Madness has now jumped onboard, naming Eidolon one of his favorite reads of 2016.

Fingers crossed that Eidolon Avenue: The Second Feast will be out late-2017/early-2018.

I’m working on it.  👊😎👍

Eidolon Avenue front cover-WARNING

Eidolon: One of the Year’s Best

I’ve just learned Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast was voted one of 2016’s Best over at Horror Novel Reviews.

This is a huge honor and, as it’s my first “Best of” list, something I’ll treasure. ‘Cause, hey, you only get your first time once, right?

What a great way to pep up a grueling day! 😜

Eidolon Avenue front cover-WARNING

we are never 100%

We are never perfect. We are never 100% day-in and day-out our best. The path to our greatest work is riddled with failures, mistakes, bouts of laziness and just plain ol’ bad writing (or whatever it is you do).

It’s important to remember this when you find your tank empty and your creativity strangely silent.

Sometimes, though, it’s wise — and I’m speaking to the writers here — to push through and, at the very least, get words on the page. Even if those words are the worst words you could ever write. At least you’ll be giving your mind and your talent an opportunity to open its eyes, wake, stretch and go “Oh yeah, I need to get back to that.”

Or at least that’s the idea that helped me write this “Do Your Worst” essay in Crystal Lake Publishing’s new Writers on Writing Vol. 1-4 Omnibus.

Check it out. Tons of good advice to be found.

Oh. And me. 😉

A brief glimpse:

writers-on-writing-excerpt

the weight of the impossible

A bit of a personal post today. A chance to vent, perhaps. Or just a chance to clarify what I’m feeling right now. And what is that?

The weight of the impossible.

Yeah. Sounds big, doesn’t it? The weight of the impossible? But that’s what it is because, silly me, that’s what I feel driven to achieve.

My choice, my doing, no one to blame but me. I know how high and difficult the climb is and yet I choose to continue. Choose to sacrifice and struggle for the smallest of steps forward. And we’re talking painfully small steps here. Like, laughably small.

And, no, this isn’t one of those “woe is me”-type of deals. Not at all. It is, like I said, a chance to vent and/or clarify what’s making my mood so heavy these days.

The weight of the impossible. I like that phrase. I don’t like how that phrase feels as I live it, but I like the heft of it as I write it. The solidity of the sentence. The cadence and rhythm. It’s a memorable phrase that perfectly captures my present journey.

And, honestly, it’s not like I’m the first doing what I’m trying to do. Thank god! This road is teeming with those who’ve walked before me. Who’ve struggled, fought, failed, fallen, stood up and eventually succeeded. Everywhere I look I see shining examples of the impossible having been done.

Right now, though, I’m surrounded by silence with no clue as to whether or not my efforts are known or seen or appreciated. I think “Yes” but I don’t know. Obviously, and I’m calling a spade a spade here, today is one of those days where the candle flickers and the dark grows darker and the doubt grows deeper.

But I still march on. Like a man in a long tunnel surrounded by deepest, darkest black who keeps putting one foot in front of the other because he knows without a doubt, with a faith that goes beyond reason or present reality, that there is an end, a fantastic end, and if he keeps walking he’ll find it.

That’s me.

So I keep writing, breaking down my long-term goals into shorter term bite-size achievable chunks — I’m somewhat famous for my email bullet lists, by the way — and doing what I can to move forward. Or even just stay where I am because the worst is to slide back. And today, for whatever reason, feels like a day where I slid back. At least in my head.

So, I dig in my heels, narrow my focus and just keep going. Keep pushing. Even if the push is imperceptible and the reward is negligible. Even if what I do now won’t show a result weeks, months, even years down the road, if at all, I just do what I can from where I am. Because that’s all I can do.

But you know what would help?

A sign.

A Yes. An “I hear you.” Or “you’re on my radar.” A “I like your work.” A nod — not even an answer, but a simple nod — that lets me know I’m on the right path. That I’m moving in the right direction. An acknowledgement that would help me find the spark to click Send on yet another email or to dial the phone for yet another unanswered call or make another bullet point list that might never be seen or discussed.

That, any of those really, would be the light shining far, far at the end of the tunnel telling me to keep walking.

See, this, right here, this is what the weight of the impossible does. It tests your faith. Dips you low so you can climb back out. Strengthens your resolve. Allows you to flirt with the possibility of failure knowing that your desire for a different result is stronger. That, even unheard or unseen or unacknowledged, you will fight on, keep pressing, keep asking, introducing, discussing. You’ll keep making those lists and getting the words on the page and brainstorming ways to carve out a space to help make the impossible possible.

But here’s something else I’ve learned: we’re not designed to carry the weight of the impossible by ourselves. This burden is designed to be shared.

And, now that I think about it, that’s what I’m feeling. The need to share what I’m creating with others. Build my dreams with people. I feel like it’s time to stop traveling this road by myself. To stop walking this alone.

Yeah, now that I think about it, that’s exactly what I need.

See? Clarity. I knew there was a reason to write this post. 🙂

 

Breathe

Even if my life feels like

tornado

and I’m all

terrified-smiley-face

I’m still gonna close my eyes, find my courage, jump feet first and

rolling-the-dice

because, hey, if I do nothing, that’s what I get:

Nothing.

And that’s, like, the exact opposite of what I want.

So I gotta

breath-engraving

and then

three-number

                                   …

two-number

                                 …

spongebob-thumbs-up