I had launch week for my new book with Shortwave and it was good for my soul. It was needed for my mental health and sense of self to be seen as a writer again. I know I am a writer; I do it almost every day, but when you are only seen as a publisher—it’s like being known only for your day job. We are all more than our day job.

My blessing and curse has been being semi-good at three things but mostly known for one. I am an “artist” and I get that branding and perception play such a role in being seen as one. You can be all about doing the work, but after a while you need to be able to share, show, promote, and yes, even celebrate the work.

During launch week, it felt so good to be the one getting interviewed and being on a panel as a writer. I talked about my own process, my characters, and inspiration instead of explaining the marketability of a book I’m publishing to my sales reps. I have not put a book out since 2020, and then this year I have two books come out. These are the first books I felt have hit my own standard, and that is its own reward. It felt good to celebrate that.

Pub day itself was really special. I got dinner with some writer friends and then went to celebrate one of my favorite authors, Clay McLeod’s, book launch. It was nice to be something that I feel like I never get to be these days in publishing—a fan. I’ve been a big fan of Clay’s since 2014; it has been such a joy to see someone you believe is doing amazing work get seen by a large audience.

It was fun to see him and all the horror fans and colleagues at The Strand. Even though I was trying not to think about editing and publishing, I loved hearing Clay talk about his process with his editor, Emma Cole, about the novel. It was nice to see Clay celebrate that partnership; the bond between editors and authors is special. It was awesome to see one of the hardest-working writers I’ve met really hit their stride this whole decade.

I left and went to the reading that fortuitously ended up on release day. It was Patio, a stellar literary reading where I have seen some of my favorite writers read. Now look, I have been reading live since my early teens; I don’t get nervous reading to any crowds. But I was nervous. I was reading something mixed with non-fiction and fiction, and it’s the kind of thing you talk more about in therapy than to an audience of like 75 people.

I was really on the fence about reading the piece. It’s hard to know you need to be seen semi-professionally as a publisher but also be an artist who is willing to be bold and not give a fuck. It’s a balance, but I have been reading Scott McClanahan Fights! and there is a scene about Gian talking about fisting a poet, and I was like—I’ll be ok, RIP Gian. Still inspiring me.

So I read a piece called I Lost My Pickleball Racquet at My Dominatrix’s Dungeon to a packed house. Not an easy thing to read, but it felt good. It felt like taking a risk and reading something where I might look bad, but really share something honest, vulnerable, funny, and entertaining. I was lucky to have friends like Nicole Sellew who also writes humorously about kink; I showed her the first 3 paragraphs and she was laughing. I felt enough courage to go through with it and honor what we have been calling Sub Summer.

I like to do something different on special occasion days, so reading a vulnerable autofiction piece when my horror book came out just felt like the right vibe and chaos magick I wanted to put into the universe. There was a peace and catharsis after reading it. I pushed through a fear and embraced the risk, and the reward was the train ride home knowing I did it.

I crashed for the next day. I mostly stayed in bed and realized I was exhausted. I have been feeling a crash since I finished pre-sales in July, and the release and reading just felt like a lot. I needed a Sleeping Beauty day of just doing nothing and it was beautiful. I do a lot, but I got to have a day to catch my breath.

My final day in NYC was the official release event for the horror book and I got to do it at Twisted Spine. This ruled so much. My agent, Coach Mike, was there, and before the event we got to catch up. I talked about the two big future projects I was working on and he was hyped. I really am planning to do two submissions in 2027.

I got some wine and we got started. My friend and talented M Jane Worma asked me so many great questions. I had so much fun answering them. The nice thing about always being a little low-key tired is you have no filter and share your honest thoughts. It felt good to see friends and strangers connecting with me as an author.

I love being on a stage and connecting. It’s just as fun as the writing and creating itself. I am used to being on one as a publisher, but it was special just to be a writer. It is hard to wear all these hats but a telling answer came when M Jane asked: How do I do the press, band, write, and be a father and husband? I said something along the lines of being a submissive who loves to bring myself to my edge, even when it’s painful. I feel happy and most alive when I’m being pushed to my limit, and my muse is my dom. It was a little moment of self-actualization that is more important than sales or fans; it was a moment of self-acceptance and self-appreciation.

I felt grateful on the train ride back home. I had a lot of publishing left to do and catch up on, but I got to feel what it’s like to just be an artist again: to take risks, share my own art, and feel that fire to make more art. I felt real gratitude to be where I am in my life. I have been doing publishing and writing for a long-ass time, but it really feels like I’m just getting started with it.

It’s a careful dance being a writer and publisher, and I pull it off most days but not during pre-sales. It’s basically being a data miner for books you love that you’re going to pitch to your distributor. We work on back copies, getting BISACs, keywords, and most importantly, pitches.

People are always pontificating about what sells books, but I can say that having distributor support absolutely sells books. There is a reason why distribution matters and getting their distributor excited about the book is so important.

I feel like my job, besides reading a lot and editing, is basically just being a translator. I need to take my love of the work I am curating and translate the art into sales speak to people whose job is to sell the book to bookstores. I am not sure if this is an art itself, but I after I finish pitching, I feel I have just played a sweaty hour set.

I love these books I select but I have to present them as products while still sharing their artistic merit. I fight for them. I champion them and this all behind the scenes. This is about creating a story for the author’s work for the sales people that will continue with emails and be shared again at a sales conference in person.

It is a weird muscle of creativity and salesmanship that drains my Pisces ass. I really lean on music during these times. I don’t write but I notice I’ll play stuff I plan on recording like 5 days in a row until my voice needs a break. I don’t enjoy doing “sales” but I am good at it and speaks its language but it fucking drains me.

I finished pitching yesterday and it went really well. It was fun and my enthusiasm for the all the books felt recived and apprecaited. I felt real support and that’s you can truly want when pitching. This is why me and many publishers are super selective about what we publish because we are going to need that passion and never-waving enthusiasm to get us through the grind and pressure of publishing.

It’s a lot of pressure to be honest. It’s a privledge to be a publisher but it’s also a lot of pressure, because I am a writer and know what it feels like to give someone a part of yourself. When you writing a book have put a crazy amount of time, emotion, and a part of who you are into a screen with hopes of it becoming a book that connects with readers. That pressure will kill you if you let it. I have learned to stay loose, and try not to take publishing very seriously. If you see me shitposting from time to time, it’s my emotionally immature way to release pressure and not let this gig get me so tight.

It’s a paradox: I am an artist first and foremost, but my goal as a publisher is to try to give others what I would want in the middle of publishing. I like living in the middle where I have a distributor, but I don’t have to conform or navigate Big 5 rules in more risk-averse side of the industry. I gotta try to sell 3,000 books in the first year, not 10k to 30k or whatever goal they have these days. I will say knowing what I know now makes me even more impressed with Big 5 editors, that would be tough to deal with sales acquistions, when my biggest worry is just making sure my enthuisam becomes contagious for a book.

It’s done now and I’m back to substacking about pre-salesing. No escape! But I missed this. I like the lack of stakes of writing my self-indulgent pieces that are basically whatever I feel like writing about. This really is my terrority and I need it. I am always doing that dance with art and commerce as a publisher, novel-writer, and musician, but writing here for really myself—it’s the closest thing I get to true artistic autonomy even if it’s mostly a self-therapy session. Maybe substacking is just pre-sales for my suboncious and soul—yup I’m so back writing a ridiclous closer like that—it feels good to be back on the stack.

My inspiration for this has been fucking around on Threads. I enjoy Threads way more than I should, but I see so much shenanigans and nonsense on there. I see ridiculous takes about writing and publishing, and even worse, I see AI dating bots that are scamming Boomer men and women interacting with them. It’s really funny but it also feels really sad.

I feel blugonded with fear, insecurity, and paranoia on Threads, and I believe this is becoming a norm in the zeitgeist. I see strangers every day desiring to be accepted as artists and as sexual beings, but instead of embracing themselves and what they have to offer, they are conforming to social media's sense of what being good enough means. Obsession with how to query agents and sell books, obsession with being the right height or weight, and obsession with being your most attractive self and trying to avoid rejection.

None of this is sexy, and none of this is going to lead to art with real feeling. None of this is going to lead to actual connection, hot sex, and, God willing, romantic love. It’s leading to parody with Looksmaxxing, AI writing, comp brain, comp chasing, and being derivative. Trying to meet this digital mob standard will, ironically, make rejection more certain.

But I understand; it’s actually hard to take the big risk and live as yourself. The only thing people are going to need in these crazy ass times is courage. It’s being willing to take the risk to authentically do what’s in their heart while still finding ways to improve. Making the art only you can make and being the romantic partner only you can be.

Make the art you want to write while trying to improve on it. Work on your style and sense of self while being authenic when looking for a partner. Make art only you can make. Be the romantic partner that only you can be.

But this conformity chase, instead of owning your individual self, is gonna leave you lonely for readers, listeners, and lovers. You have to understand that we are about to go through a period when perfection and parody will be the biggest turn-offs. AI is going to make what was already becoming disenchanting and disillusioning in the digital times ten times worse.

We are going to start craving genuine connection and authenticity in art, love, and sex. I think when all fantasy can be met with typing a prompt, we will get bored with perfection wrapped up in parody. We want something real. Even flawed.

My talent and why I’m a pretty good publisher is seeing potential and seeing where things are going a few years before they happen. As an indie publisher competing (crazy but true) for shelf space with the Big 5, I have to think about what they are missing out on and find and champion that kind of work. What they are running toward will get crowded and eventually boring, and I gotta have some courage to go in the opposite direction.

I see flawed authenticity with style and risk-taking going to be what many of us desire. Confidence with skill but also embracing imperfection. Maybe the Ziegest is onto something with the idea of medium ugly being the ideal. In a perfect world of Apollonian AI parody, being medium ugly with charm and charisma might be the best way to stand out and attract others. Fuck writing the perfect book or song, write a medium ugly original that someone can fall in love with.

Art edging, it’s a thing. I wonder if I subconsiously like it, to feel no real gratification but yet push through the doubt, uncertainty, and struggle. It’s when I get to chapter 4 in a book or know how many drafts something is going to take and it’s at least 3 more drafts. When the thrill of a new project wears off and you know when it’s done you have to give it to your agent for it to be a product. A product that has no guarantee in selling to balance out the labor.

It’s with music too. I have rewritten and rewritten songs so they get it right, so there is a theme and flow to this album. I am in love with this album, and the vision is there and now the execution comes in recording and then the marketing. All of this is a form of delayed gratification and until it gets released.

This waiting period between art and product is fucking hard y’all. It is hard to give your all to something and not know how long it will take to get it right. Not knowing how deep you will need to go, and then if you finally get it right, how does an audience receive it? So much vulnerability and time go into something that you have little control over in the end. The control is in the early stages where you feel alone, doubt, and the resistance—but you gotta keep going even when the pleasure of creating isn’t there.

You can be super talented and driven but a lot of artists don’t get through this stage. When the inspiration and newness start to wane, the work feels harder, and a chapter doesn’t flow like the last one. This is where a lot of people give up on a project that could be special. While I am 100% in on the idea of romanticism that art can transcend us and feel spiritual, I don’t know where we get the idea that it shouldn’t be hard or that we shouldn’t even suffer. Suffering sometimes is the point; growth comes from pain.

I search for metaphors to find solace in the process that aren’t as horny. The metaphor of walking up a mountain comes to mind, but that doesn’t feel like to me. It feels like walking down a valley where there is an abyss waiting at the bottom. You gotta walk through it and then you gotta walk up to get to the other side. Ah yes, the other side, completion. The journey that feels like it will never end, but I know it will if I keep going….

I am in the decent part of going down that valley, but I am walking down multiple ones. I wish I could just focus on one thing, but sometimes things need to be worked on all at once. It’s a lot. I feel tired, I feel lonely. All there is being a publisher, being a writer (with multiple projects), being a musician (with multiple projects), and being there for my family and trying to keep in touch with friends. I have time for nothing else. I am isolated in these valleys, but I am home.

There is closure in writing that, a feeling that I am where I need to be, and this feeling of ahh-blah-edging will pass. I do write these Substacks for me. I write them to make sense of things, and I know some of you will read them and get something out of them, too. I write them so we can feel less alone in the valleys of our lives. I write cause I need to do something to help lift me before I get to the other side and taste the joy of completion. You can too.

If you don’t know who I am, that hurts my ego, but I am a publisher of a pretty good press and a writer too. I feel like there is a good chance that I actually know what I am talking about in terms of writing and publishing, which is rare for people talking about “craft.”

The thing about craft and talking about it is that it really is a language that only you have to understand. Everyone has a unique thing that works for them, and the best way they learn is by trial and error. It can change for each book, or it can get finessed and improved.

I’m very big on process and trusting that process, but you have to go in a little blind in the beginning to figure out and find your process.

As writers, we love a nice metaphor, and the ones that work best for me are writing is like building a house, and a toddler having fun with chemistry. I am a dad with a toddler, and the joy my kid had mixing things, believing he was making magic potions, is an energy I want to bring to writing books. It’s selecting the right ingredients that can be the tough part.

More metaphors: I also see writing like a game of pool, where it really makes a difference to make the perfect first shot to have a chance at winning the game. Writing is building a house, a toddler’s chemistry set, and playing a game like pool, where each ball must connect until I get that final 8-ball shot with no scratch.

I need to feel prepared before I actually write the first draft. I am an outliner. I am a musician who writes songs on the bass, so my way more talented guitar player can fill them out and make them pretty and artful. I build my books brick by brick, draft by draft. My outline acts like a very sparse, shitty draft focused completely on story and the main characters. They are tied together; they must be molecules that join together as one, but that doesn’t always happen until I actually write the shitty first draft

The main book I am working on has been moving slowly, even with doing the outline, which changes—as I write—because I just couldn’t figure out the job of the co-main character. You would think that shouldn’t matter, but it really is chemistry and missing the right ingredient; I just couldn’t cook up like I needed. It finally came to me what she did for work and it all clicked—I could see the story and character becoming one. I need to see a path, even if I will deviate from it here and there.

It all comes down to snygerizing. The character, story, and vibe need to wrap around each other and form a DNA strand that makes a book in the end. Now I didn’t say style, I said vibe, because in the first two drafts I focus on vibe and in the next two drafts I focus on style. I have to do at least 4 drafts, and then I give it to an editor and/or agent and do another draft or two. I should do two, but sometimes I just do one.

In the pre-planning process, I also see chemistry and mixing things together at play. It’s shopping, finding the right ingredients. I had a book idea that I have liked for years, but it involved zombies and do we really need another zombie novel? Then a new idea formed with a new monster, and I was like, wait: what if I took out the zombies, kept the setting, but added this other monster instead. Whalah! I have a way better book idea that feels fresh with fun chemicals to mix and cook up now.

Inspiration is a form of chemistry and cooking and I think there really is a right combo we search for to make a project really feel alive. We have ideas that come to us but they aren’t fully formed or are missing something. Sometimes we need to search and find the right art to unlock something, which is why it is so important to read and watch all types of art to nourish those unformed ideas.

I am going to do something strange in this paragraph, something I never thought I would do, and that is defend the Instagram Algorithm. It’s an evil thing, as I believe it is at a point where it can tap into our subconscious desires, which is pretty fucked. That said, as artists, this is what we are trying to do with our work, and if the algorithm is showing you something and it’s not just porny, foody, or dating advice, maybe check it out.

The algorhim decided I should check out the Before Sunrise series. I have some reasons why it was suggested to me, but I did—I will be writing a separate piece about Before Sunrise Maxxing—but holy shit, it gave me a huge breakthrough about an idea I have wanted to do. A month later I have half an outline done and a co-writer for this book that’s looking to be a series.

Writing is a spooky art to quote Norman Mailer, but it’s fun, and you are playing detective, looking for clues in your subconscious and maybe even your soul. You are looking for the things inside yourself that you want to wrestle with, that can come out in characters, tropes, themes, language, and story. It’s fun! Have fun, look for the chemistry, and take as many drafts as you need to get it just right.

Someone who dreams big can achieve things but they can also live in a delusional state. That’s not always bad if, like acid, you microdose your delusions. I’m a good example of this: I have a press that’s semi-respected in the literary world that sells books, I am rebranding one band and starting another one that I think can really impact music in a cool way, and writing books with the intention to sell to the Big 5 while being a dad and husband and not having a mental collapse. It is delusional to think that I can do these things but I am doing those things.

Drive is something that might not be taught and I have had enough people point out that I have it. I don’t know if it comes from necessarily a positive place, and being a little delusional might not either, but I am who I am. I feel a little dead inside if I am not pushing myself to a limit and passing it sometimes. Sometimes your mental illness can be a strength.

Where it’s bad is when I forget to appreciate what I have and let the delusional dreamy self rule my reality. Neitzche used the metaphor of a wild horse for something I can’t remember what but I think it’s delusional drive. That shit has to be reigned in and used like a surgeon with mindful focus.

I think this is why you see successful creative artists do self-destructive things, because they can’t get out of that headspace. Reality can feel limiting and disenchanting. If you want to see a creative person with drive and delusion crash out, make them do math or look at the odds logically.

Having a little bit of delusion when working in the arts is a strength, but it turns into a devastating weakness when you can’t turn that off. There is a little euphoria that comes with that combo of drive and delusion; it’s the confidence mixed with passion that is a cocktail that you can want to drink every minute of the day. That energy, like alcohol, should be used only in certain times and places or you are gonna be reckless, annoying, and have a bad crash.

We need to be sober in a spiritual sense when we are just living life. Not every moment is a performance or a time to feel hyped the fuck up, yet turning that drive and delusion can be a crash for many of us.

The only thing that lessens the crash is appreciation and gratitude for what you have. Yes, you are driven and have desires, but don’t forget about the gifts you have in the present moment. Appreciate them. Appreciate the people you have. Appreciate what needs are being met.

Appreciation is the principle and energy to have when the drive and delusion need to be charged down. Put those horses back into stables to rest and look at your life and those around and feel how lucky you are to have what you have. Appreciation can be a verb, so make sure to show it with action.

I keep going but I have felt like I had to become a snake instead, a Capricorn shedding all my Pisces scales away. I still read books as a Pisces and I fall in love but after that it’s Capricorn time. How do I sell this and also can I sell this? are always the questions that follow after falling in love. Pisces shouldn’t have to think about book sales, we are delicate souls who need art to remain pure and spiritual. Yet at the end of the day, if you aren’t selling books the press will be no more.

Also, do you know that people will just not like you when you are a semi-successful publisher? They will just not like you because you have no time to give people and you feel bad but again, you are just trying not to collapse. There are also writers who love bomb you and want to be friends, and then stop when you reject them. This is a torturous existence for my sensitive Pisces ass! Don’t you get that I am a gentle soul and I’m just trying to carve out a healthy middle for talented writers between the micropress and Big 5?!

Yet in some ways being a mid-size publisher is great for a Pisces who thrives on humiliation, disappointing others, and having highs that always lead to lows where you feel alienated and lonely. Being a publisher is fucking lonely. Your friends end up being mostly writers you work with which is great but it’s like being friends with your kids kind of thing. You don’t really have time to go make normie friends and you also meet these amazing, talented authors, so you get spoiled and a little addicted to the mutual inspiration. Then you meet some normie who wants to talk about Stranger Things, and you're like, okay, I can do this but then you just can’t wait to go home and read or write.

For Pisces who love to swim in their lonely fish tank of despair being a publisher isn’t a totally terrible. You get little treats and successes and your little fish self feels full until you are hungry again and trapped in your tank figuring out how to present to sales reps, survive returns and deal with letting people down. You get major highs and major lows, both fish get to eat lots of joy and lots of disappointment.

It’s funny what I wanted to do for a real job/career were two things: work for the State Department/ be a shrink. I worked sales jobs for real jobs but any idea of a career was those two things besides doing something involving editing/writing. The shrink thing makes sense. I am empathetic, can connect, and like to help people when I can, but the State Department?

I wanted to do it, I guess, cause even as a Pisces, I have a natural understanding of power and alliances. I get power dynamics which could make me a great Switch of a Dom/Submissive but I am not obsessed with politics. Yet publishing is politics, and my Pisces ass somehow gets it: picking the right distributor, building alliances, understanding soft and hard power and knowing where I can compete against the hegemonic Big 5. In college, I wrote about Abdel Nasser and non-alignment for my history and political science degree, inspired by how he carved a place of autonomy against the Soviets and Western Bloc. I honestly like that part of this side of the bussiness even though my sensitive soul should hate it, but I like that side of it.

Maybe Pisces are more complicated than our sign. We are fish swimming in opposite directions. I recently had an epiphany about myself, which is that I am a paradox who loves extremes. I like things that shouldn’t go together, and can contain different extremes in myself that are very much opposites. I am not just one thing. Yeah, I am sensitive but also have a really competitive, driven side. I don’t always like that side in me but it’s there and has helped me as a publisher.

Maybe Pisces are about both polar-opposite fish swimming with equal power. It’s when my Capricorn side takes over to overcome the passive, sensitive Pisces side that I feel not fully myself and get burnt out. It’s trying to find balance and bring the Pisces side with me when I need to get shit done but working with it instead of numbing it. Both energies are swimming and flowing at once, so I stay afloat, breathe, and enjoy where I have gone and where I am going.

I always feel like a scrambled TV when I wake up and it’s always the bad shows that play the clearest and loudest. I’ve been dealing with depression since fifth grade. It came hard and I tried to fight it with rage. I remember crashing out and throwing a bunch of desks at school and it felt good. The rage felt better than the sadness.

I have let the rage go. I can’t carry it around to protect me when I have a kid and wife to protect. I have seen that getting ego boosts from making or curating art is a losing game. I can’t outrun, perform, or outshine the sadness. The sadness just comes sometimes and it comes the strongest when the sun begins to shine.

I have learned to take a leap of faith that it will elevate sometime between 10 AM to noon. I have to exercise, journal and/or write, meditate, or just focus on something I’m grateful to have. Like a miracle the depression feeling gets bored and goes back to bed. The medication makes it so that it doesn’t consume me and I can live my life, but it doesn’t feel like it in those first hours of the day. It feels like a fight where if I don’t exercise/ journal/self-care, I’m going to lose.

I don’t think these moments of depression are all bad even if it feels that way. I sometimes feel like it comes in full force when I am leaving something behind that isn’t that healthy for me. I have been doing that this year just divorcing myself from results. I am delving deeper into who I really am and the trauma I’ve been trying to avoid. It’s messy and hard, and it brings up the depression. It is when my guard is down that it likes to dance and play around.

I know it passes though. Depression feels like a person sometimes who will eventually get bored when it can’t claim me after I awake and centered. It can feel like a stalker who loses interest. It sometimes takes a month or two and then I level out and I feel stronger after it. That is the weird dance I have with depression. It makes life harder but when it passes everything feels easier and I feel stronger.

I am looking at depression and maybe even hardships not as a curse but as ways to find strength and authenticity in myself. There is real strength in being vulnerable and not running from the sadness. Taking off all the armor and feeling it, you start feel you, the you that feels real. It feels soft and there is struggle but it’s you. I know the skin will harden and the depression will lose its strength, and a little more of me will be there when I wake up.

I liked The Boys. Yes, the first couple of seasons were special and the last two weren’t as good. I am not here to say it was bad or a masterpiece. It was a good show with an ending that felt solid. Not Breaking Bad epic ending, but not The Sopranos what the fuck, or the depressing af I want to die like The Succession ending. It felt like an ending and a solid conclusion but didn’t really hit me emotionally. The death of Homelander felt like an impactful ending, but Hughie being the last man standing after killing Butcher felt very ho-hum.

It didn’t feel like Endgame; it felt like how life feels for married adult men. Boring!

I realized a day later, it was a great ending that actually said something specifically to “The Boys” of all ages. I always found the title of the show a little weird but the ending was really a message to men and boys on how to have a decent life. Not a great one, not an epic one but a decent one. This was a show with a male perspective that was commenting on politics but ended up saying some insightful things about masculinity and the paths men choose.

Hughie was always our guy from the start with a heartbreaking opening. We forget about that opening, but it was always his story about a regular who isn’t really a hero or a villain, just a boy whose life made him a man by tragedy. His path wasn’t to be Dark Batman (Butcher) or an insane Joker villain (Homelander), but to accept what you can’t change and just be there for the people you love, and the people we love might outshine you and that might best life you can get.

Hughie isn’t special; he isn’t going to lead an army, a Fortune 500 company, or even start a YouTube channel on how to save men or out mog someone. His only superpower is he is principled and knows how to love someone else and be a good partner, which might be the best path for many men in the modern world.

Like the show, the paths for young men in the digital AI age look pretty fucking bleak. You either dominate the world or get dominated by it. Chad or Virgin. Alpha or Beta, Bull or Cuck. It’s very black and white, when the world is fucking so grey these days. It’s finding the grey like Hughie and surviving while the heroes and villains fall.

There is a nice irony in a show about toxic superheroes telling the men that living a steady life full of love, family, and purpose is probably your best path. Not trad nonsense, but that love and service might be more fulfilling in the end than living for ego and

The show’s antihero Homelander went through a strange hero worship with fans and I would argue a lot of men, in a fucked up but understandable way, relate to him. If many men got his power they would be just like him, not healed, chasing fetishes that help them feel the temporary love they never got—yet not needing anyone. Always strong, never able to get hurt until that unravels and then all that’s left is fear and weakness.

Butcher is not much better, only driven by purpose and revenge, willing to kill the innocent to save the world only he knows how to protect. He became something he would hate—a politician and a hypocrite. No, there was no noble sacrifice like Tony Stark, nothing biblical or any teary-eyed moments in the end. Even Hughie stopping Butcher felt more sad than anything. There was no emotional payoff with it, just felt like a beat that had to be it.

Yet that is real life; there is very little emotional payoff for doing the right thing. If anything, men feel just tired and their superpower is just finding a way to keep on going. We aren’t going to be superheroes, or worshipped or told how great we are; we have to tell others those things like our wives and or kids. We have a new role that’s more equal, more about teamwork, and being better than our own fathers. Where we might not be the stars but have to follow our own Starlights and be strong for them.

I do love the feeling of losing myself in a made-up character. I love the sadistic aspects of putting a character through hell, giving them a burning desire they might not get, and having them face death. Horror is such a good genre to put my crazy into, but, like my press CLASH Books, I don’t want to live in horror all the time. I enjoy jumping around genres and autofiction/indie lit is something we love

My struggles with writing about myself and twisting to fit into a story is it can feel very underwhelming. I am not facing death, I am not facing things with much at stake except from an emotional perspective. I know what is already going to happen or at least how I’d like things to happen, or what would be amusing. But I need those stakes, I need to feel some risk. I am a bit of a junkie when it comes to writing, and I need to feel that rush to get off when writing.

I am working on a new autofiction piece that I have shown to a good friend who told me I shouldn’t publish it at least not right now. Not cause it’s bad cause it makes me look bad and sound crazy, but that’s why I want to write and publish it. I feel real risk and danger; I feel the stakes like I do in genre fiction. Maybe I need to feel like I could be canceled for writing autofiction, or it just feels indulgent to me.

Maybe autofiction to my genre-writing-self needs to feel no different than a submissive masochist who gets off a little on humiliating themselves in the safety of a story that’s like a session with a dominatrix. A substack for another day: are all autofiction writers submissives? Probably!

The other auto-fiction piece I’m working on is a novel about my time managing a pornstore in Washington, DC. It’s about trying to find love and date while selling porn and boner pills all day to lonely men, while reading a bunch of classic books and trying to be a better writer. Yes, the pervs look bad but I need to be on who is the true court jester of the book. I am a young, naive fool at this time and my life and I need to show that.

The short story I am working on that my friend says not to publish also involves sex, love, kink and work. I feel like these are probably the best subjects for autofiction. Writing should be therapeutic, which autofiction is, but speaking more as a publisher than a writer, it’s nice when it’s entertaining. I think autofiction should be entertaining or at least relatable. The neuroscience nerds say the power of story is for us to imagine being put in a fictional situation and finding a way out or a way to accept what happens. I think autofiction can do that well and be more in reality than most genre fiction.

Speaking of publishing, I personally approach autofiction very similarly to how horror writers approach publishing—you are going to pay me for my work. I love writing it but it’s labor and I have done my job then you need to pay me. I am ok with putting humiliating things out into the world but I need to be paid to do that. The “short story” I am working on is either getting a high-paying well-read magazine or it’s just something I wrote for myself. I am good with either and it’s the same with the porn store book—it’s either getting with a press with good distribution/advance/or royalties or I am not putting it out.

I am not an exhibitionist; I am a writer. While this place is becoming my place to write for the love of it, as I will not charge people to read my non-fiction, anything with a dose of fiction is either pay me or I will keep it myself. I am putting my most intimate self and using my own name in the book— I need to get paid and I need to feel it will get read especially if it was hard and humiliating to write about. Hell, even the court jester got compensated by the King. That is how I feel when writing autofiction: my life is the horror show but it’s there to make you laugh, not scare you.

While there is a lot of legit criticism of auto-fiction and I laughed pretty hard instead of getting offended by JOC calling it Wane Little Husks, it has its place in art and dare I say even in popular fiction. It’s similar to punk music, while a lot of sounds the same and there isn’t much craft involved, when it hits like Scott McClanahan or Tea Hacic-Vlahovic. I have felt a gamut of emotions and have been changed by reading their work. They went hard with lots of humor and heart. Maybe that is the only real "rules for autofiction—go hard and give us your heart and be willing to laugh at yourself, or else it’s just journaling with unresolved fantasy. The beautiful paradox of autofiction we have a place to be our realest selves.

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As a musician, I am not good at writing these kind of songs even though I have tried. Some of it is just physicality. I am a sad-sounding bass-baritone and tenors with a pop-flavored voice are better fits for these songs. Some of it is just my own personal experiences. I’m pretty fucked up. I got a lot of darkness and destructive energy which doesn’t fit well with indie pop rock. I am naturally suited to write goth rock songs, but I fought it because it almost felt like cheating.

That sounds stupid writing it, but I think as artists, the grass can be greener, and we can envy art that we can’t do well. Instead of claiming what we are naturally suited to do, we want to be our opposite. At least that has been the case with me.

It’s the same with serious literary fiction. I love that shit, I love a book that can dominate you with pure style, voice, and theme. Every day I pinch myself that I published a book like Little Lazarus. Books where the plot is barely there, yet they can still take you on the same emotional journey with page-turner energy. I love those kinds of books, but I can’t write them well.

I can write a plot-driven story with memorable characters with a style that moves the story along, and it’s either going to be horrifying (horror) or hilarious (rom coms), maybe both, but you are not going to confuse it for literary fiction. I can do autofiction but it’s really a form of romance comedy and I am happy to look bad and be the court jester of my own story. These are the things I’ve done well and feel confident I can do, but there is a part of me that wants to write a serious literary novel for my midlife crisis.

I do believe we have a push to get out of our comfort zone but it’s just going deeper or doing something that scares us. It might not be best to totally change genre unless that genre is where your talents shine the best. This is not to say you should stop enjoying and learning from the art that you do not do, I believe its quite the opposite.

I remember meeting hardcore horror icon Edward Lee and seeing how much he loved the classics. He got inspired by them and learned craft from them but still focused on what he did best—writing truly horrifying wtf stories. If he wrote Old Man in the Sea it would probably be about a guy having sex with a starfish and then chopping off his own genitalia with it. I’d read that! but I digress.

We have natural talents and dispositions, it’s ok to play to those and focus on the things you do best. A lot of people are making art, and now we have robot posers trying to create things as well. We need to claim the authenic talents that we can do best while still looking toward art that might not be what we are best at but inspires us.

But I got inspiration recently, real obsessive and manic inspiration, and it’s really not worth it. I did something destructive and unhinged, nothing that bad, but something to break out of the intense discipline and focus. Something out of the montony of

dad publisher musician writer husband…

dad publisher musician writer husband…

dad publisher musician writer husband…

dad publisher musician writer husband…

dad publisher musician writer husband…

Even the best gifts and blessings can feel boring when everyday feels the same.

It gave me such a rush. I felt younger and alive. I felt like I found something that had been missing in my life and the inspiration flooded my bloodl. I wrote a poem, a song, and a novel idea came to me that I still love.

It was euphoric. It felt so good to be taken over by an emotional high and then to just have that flow out of me into art. It’s a heavenly feeling for an artist to feel that when everything feels like work and struggle year after year.

With creating art, there is always a feeling of like going to the gym and having patience to get in the flow. It’s similar to feelings of fishing or having a conversation with someone new, who you enjoy, but wonder where this going? It takes a little time to get into the flow and find the rhythm, but with inspiration, there is no waiting, no conversation, just a voice that takes over you.

It feels spiritual and it feels addictive. It can be good for certain art forms like poems or getting lucky with a chord progression and a song comes. It’s not good for novelists though. That kind of energy always fizzles out. The same with a song, you are going to be in an inspiring state every time you sing it. Poets, you can get away with it, but that is about it.

The thing about inspiation is there will be a crash. It’s not sustainable and it makes you an addict like trying to find that magic again and you become obssessed and lose track of reality. Maybe inspiration is an evolved trait of reality being too much and needing a break from it, but that’s probably bullshit. I think some of us just are prone to addictive things and can’t handle things that feel too good in a healthy way.

I’m working on a short-fiction piece dripping with faustian inspration and know the inspiration will fully leave when it is done. It’s a piece that part of me hopes doesn’t get published cause I’ll look bad but inspiration is srangling an wrestling it out of me. I will finish the piece, but I’m ready to get back to the grind and struggle of working for my muse. It’s sustaniable, gives me purpose, and allows me to return to reality and see my boring life is pretty good and I just have to appeciate it.

I am at a current crossroads of success, but struggling with mental health issues. Things are good in terms of the press, my own writing, and creative pursuits like music. What has felt impossible now feels very possible. Ego strokes, money coming in, and more opportunities while also learning to say no. These are all blessings but they aren’t a magic pill that is going to heal the real mental health struggles I have had since childhood.

There is a real sadness that comes when you truly grasp that you can’t write, sell, and sing yourself out of trauma and psychic wounds.

I still have and will always have mental illness issues, and in some ways, they get exacerbated by success. The obsessiveness gets stronger. The weekly validation begins to feel normal. The drive and want for more—it gets stronger than just taking a moment to appreciate and just be.

Pursuing art in a semi-professional manner for someone with mental health issues is a challenge. I struggle with the balance and reaching the goals does not fix or cure anything.

I think some of us turned to making art at young ages cause it was probably the only way to process childhood trauma. Feelings of not being good enough or loved could be processed in fantasy and creating stories.

There is a romanticism to art and mental illness but I truly feel it’s bullshit. I have met a lot of “successful writers,” and the truth is, most of the ones doing well are very well-adjusted and healthy people. It takes discipline, healthy self-esteem and ego to deal with rejection, and being easy to work with to be a professional.

I accept I am not one of those: I struggle with depression, anxiety, feeling unworthy, and the need to chase highs to level out sadness and or inner rage. What can be a gift of being able to process these emotions by creating music, prose, and poetry to make sense of it can turn into something dark and unruly when self-esteem and self-worth get tied to it.

I have hit a wall where the drive needs to be switched to the need to just live and be. The discipline and ambition doesn’t dissolve and I don’t want it to, but I see I don’t need to put gasoline on a fire that can get unruly.

I am switching gears. I am trusting that what I do work-wise is enough and not to get obsessive. It comes from a place of fear but it’s not serving me anymore. Making art and curating and selling others gives me so much-needed purpose but I need that drive and mindfulness to be harnessed and healing and just learning how to be a person.

I am going to use this space to talk about this shit. I need to learn to just be and writing is always the best way to see hard truths inside and outside ourselves. Seeing ourselves on a page helps us accept and even change ourselves. That can be enough.

I am an artist first, and never had a desire to be a publisher or an editor, but doing those things and giving to others gives back to me. It’s the paradox of serving others to receive I but it’s been that way with me. I joke that my Faustian deal with making music is that I had to become a publisher to be inspired to write good songs.

The struggle is time and energy. To paraphrase another Ryan Holiday book, ego hasn’t been the enemy, exhaustion has been the enemy. A hell for an artist is to be so inspired, feel so driven, but know you can’t just take that joyous plunge of reckless abandonment. That has been a struggle for me and probably always will be. Yet, this is how I feel most alive. I want to be pushed to the limit, I want an obstacle I have to figure out. I feel kind of dead when I don’t have that challenge.

I guess I am kind of fucked up but with art being fucked kind of works for me? I have made peace with being mentally ill. I am and it’s ok. I need medication to stay sane and I need to work out and write books about evil shit or love. I need to write songs and perform them. Perfect them. I need these obsessions, but I need to make sure I don’t get too high or too low with them. With writing fiction, I feel the healthiest. I just clock in on most days and tell my little horror stories like a bird dropping little pieces of food into their nest.

Decades of habit have added up to just a sustainable, almost daily practice. That is a blessing I don’t want to take for granted.

Yet I gotta make sure I have time, energy, and love to give to the writers I work with and of course, my kid. I’ll say this about being an artist parent: it's not that different from being an athlete who has to learn how to play hurt each season. I’m not injured, but I am always playing hurt, always low on time and energy. Always feeling like I could crash.

But I keep going. What else am I going to do? It’s this fire I feel inside. The burn, I call it.. It’s just a thing in me where if I am not creating it feels like I am going through withdrawal,l and I get irritable, restless, and discontent like an alcoholic who's gone a day without a drink. Blessing or curse? Somedays it feels like both, but it’s mostly a blessing, but blessings all come with responsibility and even Spiderman gets the blues.

A lot of days feel lonely, and I don’t know why. I am surrounded by all these artists that inspire the hell out of me, but there is a loneliness that comes with it. Maybe pressure and stakes just feel like loneliness? Maybe being an artist and loneliness are part of the deal? I feel so connected to myself, but I always feel so distant from others. I think it’s cause I’ve put so much labor and energy into my own work, and that hasn’t really connected yet. I have a novel I’m waiting for my agent to put on subs, and an album that needs recording. Both projects have been in the making for many years and have undergone trials and errors in the making.

There is a desire to feel that energy back. Like when I play a show and I’m giving all myself to the audience, I want to feel some energy and connection given back to me. I think that’s why we see artists get self-destructive, because we have put so much heart and soul into something, and it’s painful when you don’t get any of it back. It really is an energy exchange. It’s so hard to wait for that exchange. Yet I wait and find ways to make the waiting less frustrating.

I work on the next book, fine-tune more songs, and keep practicing the craft of writing and singing. I’m doing this Substack again to just have a place to put this energy out, and maybe it connects, maybe it doesn’t.

It’s hard to be the artist helping other artists when you just want to be an artist sometimes. The bridesmaid who just wants her own marriage to finally happen, but the waiting is also part of the process. It is part of the artist's deal, which also includes the rejection. As a publisher, I have done ok finding that middle area between commerce in art; it’s tougher to do that as an artist, but I go on.

Tired or not, inspired or not, the burn and fire doesn’t go out. Fucking Jean Grey Phoneix shit for my fellow X-Men nerds. The fire keeps going. I just can’t gotta find ways to keep from burning out.