The Unforgiven, et al

Today I did my debut blog post over at Slash and Burn. Read it here.

I'll blog over there every two weeks, always Friday.

I'm currently in the hot phase at work. Everything has to come together in the next 9 days, and then I'm off to Moscow. Should be fun. And stress. And fun.

Today, I pondered what the most unforgiveable things are that I've ever heard. Funnily enough, I've taken everything from "you're an asshole" to "you'll end up just like your mother/the rest of your useless, antisocial family" (gee, thanks, Dad) just fine. Above all, I've proven them wrong - which is even better.

The real barbs were always the ones levelled at my writer-self. That ranged from "you have no right to write about something you haven't lived through", to "you pretentious wanna-be" and "you are burnt out and need me to write at all."

Those hurt for months. But I've proven them all wrong, too. I've gone through "where have you copied that?" (thanks, grandma) and come out on the other side, writing. I've tackled my pretentiousness - which was actually correct, I was pretentious, but for certain reasons. If you haven't found your voice yet, of course words ring hollow,. If you use big words that are hollow, that's pretentious. I've been doing better at finding my voice. Now, my convictions are behind every sentence. It's like that sound-based weapon in "Dune". If you hit the right note - if you use the Voice - it *will* be heard.

But regarding the Big Unforgiven - the biggest of them all - I've decided to not accept one euro of my father's money. I've carried the burden of that inheritance for five years. It's nearly - or already - legally void, and I feel relieved. I don't want one single euro from a rapist, wife-beater, alcoholic and all-round abusive asshole. There are many reasons for that, but the biggest one is that he always thought that was the only thing people wanted from him.

Well. No. I wanted you to be human, "Dad". But above all, you don't have any power over me. Not ever, not now.

One day, I'll write about "good fathers" - but I'm not quite done here with the forgiving. It's an ongoing process, and part of what fuels a certain deep anger I have inside. But it's good anger. You showed me everything that is bad about "Fatherhood".

Dark, twisted soul-mirror. I have your blue eyes, but mine are warm and clear, and I use them to see.

Just before the break

Currently in edits for the secret project, it's absolutely hopping at work and only gearing up towards getting crazy!mad again. So very little to report - too busy, brain too worn down after work for long introspective pieces.

"Lion of Kent" keeps getting great reviews, though, and ranks highly on the Amazon bestseller lists (#36 in Gay fiction and #56 in the gay Kindle list). I'm curious to see what the sales are like, but I'll know in about 6 months.

Today I went to St Paul's Cathedral where they have a Spitfire and a guy in a costume and some relevant bits and pieces exhibited. Made photos on the iPhone, but not sure yet if they are any good. Seeing one of the planes up close is still pretty awesome when you're writing about them. I was pretty close to going to the RAF Museum just to see one, and then they put one directly outside the office extra for me.

Very worried about an online friend with no idea what's happened to her. And dreading, as every year, November. There's this sense of impending dread which might be in part worry for friends and in part just general anxiety. I reckon I might pull back further and marshal my troops for a couple weeks. It's also, always, a tough time when I'm trying to get a novel launched and one finished. Attention/focus can only be split so many ways.

I think once the secret project is done, I'll take a break from writing for a few weeks. Let's see how that goes, but I think I need to recover my energy and fill my heart with images and fresh words. A good time to read and exercise and otherwise do very little at all.