So I Missed Another Blog Date

       Welp, I’m late again. I do that. It’s one of my things… Okay, was with the GF and let this lapse. #GoodLife

      And the results are in, and The Ways In moved a total of (drumroll)… 99 copies.

      Wait, what? Not even a hundred? When I hoped for at least 300? Insert King George III from Hamilton gif here (you know which one). And what has this netted me review wise? One 5-star rating. Better than nothing, but, well, cue disappointed author face, and insert that gif again.

      Oh, yes, evidence:

      And, um, well… yeah. High hopes dashed. The perks of being independent and self-published with minimal advertising spend. Also, nails bit on dwindling hope of something I can use to boost sales of book next time I give it away. The perks of potential reader going, “Five stars? For what?” Also, worthless feelings. The perks of anxiety, the low side of my bipolar.

      How much of my book has been read? I don’t know. The reports only show 690 pages read on Kindle Unlimited and whatever KOLL is. That could be a total of two readers out of 99 for all I know. The perks of free books going straight into the To Be Read pile. When? Maybe until those people learn that Dante’s hell is frozen over. #Shrug.

      I really don’t know how I feel about it. Empty? Definitely hollow. There’s a lot of me in that thing, and readership means the world to me. Hateful? I hope not. Okay, I’m dismayed by the poor showing, and I’m certainly taking the shine off the 5-star rating and whoever was kind enough to give it to me. Sour grapes? Yeah, I’ll take it.

      Oh well, here’s to another three months in the wilderness, and I’ll go free again, this time with a virtual book tour so I have more exposure, and see if that cast net, well, nets any fish. Yep, this isn’t the end. Hope lives on, and maybe I’ll have nails with a handful of reviews to put at the front to get more readers the third time I go free.

      That coaxes me out of the doldrums. And that’s really all I have to say today. All the best, and have a good one!

      T. M.

The Bolted Ram and Shovel

THREE WAYS - THE WAYS IN

Available in Paperback or on Kindle, get your copy today!

Australia/NZ/US     Ireland/United Kingdom      Canada

      Hi guys,

      Welcome to The Bolted Ram and Shovel!

      No, I haven’t opened a craft beer bar (aww) but if you’ll go for a copy of Three Ways – The Ways In, you’ll get to go there, a place with a main bar, upstairs restaurant, downstairs club with a 90’s dance night twice a month, and some craft beers (including some by the proprietor).

      Okay, so Cole and Jane will go there (yay them). Halm Dresden, too (well, the one in Caral-Hilde when I put The Fear, The Sundering, The Journey out there). You might be thinking, “Why am I being invited?” Well, author here, I do need readers. As for how to get them…

      Well I could just hope people find their way to my Sample My Work [link] page and click on the links there. Or I could just put TWI on KDP Select, make it free for five days, and advertise it using a cover pic and the ultimate get a free copy on a Facebook ad and see how far up the Kindle charts I can get.

      That’s it, that’s the big announcement, The Ways In will be FREE this coming weekend!! And I’ll be keeping tabs on copies sold, and the Amazon rankings to see how far up I can go, and gloat over the results next post… Fine, I’ll be humble, but I’ll still be cheering if I can break the 500 copies moved, and stoked if I can get some reviews (even crap ones).

      “But, hey, isn’t it your birthday this week?” Um, well, yes, it is. And yes, you can say I’m giving the presents. And presence. Ahh, the joys of advertising to generate interest.

      And, well, there you have it. And if you happen to have a million friends… a boy can dream of going to number one, yeah? Really, I’ll be happy with 301 copies moved, because then I can officially put this picture up:

      Nothing further to add, I’m really excited over doing this while I’m still on the low budget days, the future may bring the complete edition with better cover art. We’ll see.

      Bye for now, and have a good one!

      T. M.

Arise from the Drops

       Hi guys,

      Yep, missed blog week again.

      I don’t mind, really. It’s probably for the best, as nihilistic as my intended post was going to get. Not Macbeth level – though the murdery crazy guy has a point – but, well, something best left unsaid for now. Trent 1, the doldrums meh.

      Honestly, I don’t know what to peck into shiny laptop of a word processor now. I’d hit a bottom recently, c’est la recoverie vie (gasp, French!) and was due the restart, the constancy of it debilitating in its way. I went and got both of them, and here I am a week later, filling my blog with letters grouped in the shape of English words, and all in all balanced.

      Ahh, a shudder-buzz. Found the right thing. The joys of understanding your own psychosomatics (gasp, big word!). Not so much the feeling of loneliness despite being in church right next to the GF, or the triggered thoughts at, well, I’ll call them inopportune times. But there it is, I’m balanced, and that is a good thing.

      But now I have a big question for myself, and wondering if I have the energy to go through with it. The Ways In is going nowhere, and there’s been no movement cover-wise, but such is my decided lot with that. And writing The Ways Out? Well, um, yeah, I, uh, I’m doodling up the map of a medieval fantasy kingdom. #WriterLife. And yes, it’s making me happy.

      Another shudder-buzz. Yay me.

      Also, it’s mildly possible I’ll have an announcement soon. See how I go.

      In other news, weather continues poorly, quite Melburnian this last week in ye olde Sydney towne. Also Melbourne has been let out to play now the virus is in check, yay! (And I think I have it tough). And I really have nothing further to add.

      I’ll leave it there, short and sweet. Hope you have a good one!

      T. M.

So, I Missed a Blogging Date...

 

      Hi guys,

……Yes, it’s another case of the welps, because yes, I didn’t blog three weeks ago. Maybe it’s because I had nothing to say. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I made chocolate evaporate somewhere in the world. Anyway, now to the current, what’s a guy to blog?

      No, seriously, send me a topic. 2020 and how it’s like Thanos riding Cthulhu? The great Xbox X shortage and how Microsoft should have played Age of Covid? (Yes, I’d like to buy an Xbox. Yes, I’ve put a deposit on Cyberpunk 2077 because it comes out on my birthday. Yes, I can wait until then, but still, WTH?!) How hoping a certain someone who recently got Covid dies makes you a terrible person?

      Maybe that lack of nicety is a good point. I don’t know if I want to go into it, “Who are you to push your morals on me.” It’s certainly saying something of divisive characters raising the hackles and ire of whole tracts of society, just as it’s saying something about you to celebrate illness – in my view, you may as well be mocking people with cancer. And given said individual mocked someone disabled, it makes you no better than them.

      But there’s more to lack of nicety in the external. What about the internal? Self-loathing is a thing; I know it because I’ve been there, got the T-shirt, still wearing it. These last two weeks I’ve had the S. H. I. T’s, especially on the roads, and as much as I said my piece on external un-nicety times three Friday, it came back to me on my recovery journey and a trip to the meeting room rather than on Zoom.

      Yes, those S. H. I. T’s are mine, related to my internal pain rather than traffic or dabblers in schardenfreude; well, highlighted, too. Not getting my way, getting slowed down, held up. Seeing spitefulness, lording it over on people disliked. Yes, there is an external cause of these things, but the hate is really against me. The only options are to let it lord over me, or do something about it. But what?

      I found the answer to that this morning, thanks to that breeding dog known as hindsight, courtesy of recovery. Maybe it can work for everyone in the self-loathing boat, but many of those boats are far out to sea, the external and/or internal pain causing it makes abstinence difficult, or nigh impossible. The short of it is marking it as something not to do; the long of it is it takes a lot of work with stumbles along the way, and needs help.

      I don’t know if I’m waffling on here or making a point. Maybe there isn’t a point, it’s for the best, and I’m sorry about the chocolate. But please have a think about the self-loather, and what’s going on for them to feel that way.

      Hope you have a good one,

      T. M.

Welp, I’m On A Break

       Hi guys,

      Yes, that P instead of an L is correct. All the kids are up in that on ye olde internette, except it’s usually an expression of woe is me. Well, it is a little woe is me, thanks to the Golden Crowned Lurgy.

      And yes I’m on holiday. No, not over to see that 99% well-behaved son of mine. Still a travel ban here in Oz and after a quick pray sesh (that’s session, my non-Aussie friends) I really didn’t feel I’d get an exemption. It wasn’t like I was off to fight the GCL on the frontline with Medecins Sans Frontieres.

      So, sadly, that Daddy’s In Town dinner at IHOP will have to wait until next year, hopefully on the back of a vaccine or at least no travel ban.

      Still, I need the break. And a break from Sydney. Hello, Broke in the Hunter Valley, I’m going to visit you, taste some wines, and bring them back. Kinda pricey but, well, why not?

      Okay, I don’t really know what to blog about this week, being a day late, and nothing like last week’s blog to offer, except offer guest blog space on my off weeks – need some audience and reach, and to entertain you lot (admit it, you like content, lot’s of content!). Who knows how it will go? I’ve had one person ask about it but nothing from it. No response 1, Trent meh. Oh well.

      You know what? The need of breaks. Me, to paraphrase Hamilton (King George III is my ringtone now lol), I’m running like I’m running out of time. Maybe it’s not drinking water during the day and before bed, but resting is hard even getting ten hours’ sleep, and feeling fresh in the morning. I can be wiped by the hometime bell, not wanting to rosary it up afterwards, just wanting to vegetate, too lazy to game, watch a movie, read Moby Dick.

      No, we’re not built for long-term stress, living on edge, slaving away on the edge of panic. Throw in the GCL, travel bans, quarantines, border closures, getting the Total Recall nose treatment, financial help missing casualised workforces, and it’s a recipe for disaster. Yeah, I’ll call it that, while certain right-minded (emphasis on the right) individuals, businesspeople, and politicians have a whinge about the pandemic reality – and add to the problem.

      It’s an interesting world to see. All thing considered, I’m rather pragmatic about it, this new normal in the world being my normal for the past, well, 20 years. Yes, I’m concerned, gobsmacked about Victoria, the situations overseas. But, it really is just another day for me.

      Enough of me, how do we do breaks in the face of the Gojira of colds and flus? Victoria has a curfew, and Melburnians just can’t duck off to the Yarra Valley like I can nip up the Hunter. How do we do breaks in general? Parts of this world won’t have the luck of Jobkeeper, and are still stuck in the “joy” of wars, famines, neglect of the poor. Why am I/we so lucky, when others aren’t?

      I’m sorry I don’t have the answer, or the means to get everyone a break. Well, I do, but it’s a manic dream of a step to the left, no more blowing each other up, getting back to the imperfect ideals of commonwealths, equity and equality.

      Maybe we can aim for that stuff, taking breaks, rather than racing headlong to, “Cheer up, Jack, I’m alright.” Maybe that’s the silver lining of the Golden Crowned Lurgy, if we look for it. For now, I’ll leave it there, on the hope of a good one, and with links to my last post, and my Three Ways self-interview.

      T.M.

Justice, Sometimes, Be Done

      The following relates to me being sexually abused as a child. If you have been harmed now, or in the past, please seek support if you need it, and report if you can - you're worth it.

      Hi guys,

      Well, it’s been three weeks. Yes, no more fortnight blogging, just to be fair to myself. Also being fair to myself, adding a bunch of Trek to my movie collection (I watched Into Cheapness last night. Derivative as hell, I’ll keep my Wrath of Khaaaaaaaaan!). Not being fair to myself, skipping recovery meetings. I’ll crawl back Sunday.

      Life is a bit mixed for me. #Bipolar. #MessedUp. #Hurt. There’s pains there I wouldn’t wish on anybody, and while there are people worse off than me, it’s hurt more than you can imagine. Somehow, I’ve scraped through it all. #Survival. This week, some of those pains were resolved.

      I’m a child sex abuse survivor. And last year, I made the decision to apply for the redress scheme here in Australia. I’d already gone through EMDR therapy for the flashbacks. I’d latched onto forgiveness for my abuser. But it was a huge step to apply, because I didn’t feel worth it; it took a lot of self-convincing, and it was a couple of months before I actually did it.

      But, at last, I had the statutory declaration signed, scanned, attached, and pressed the magic apply button. And in the moment that followed, I decided to go forward to Police, and make a report. I’d gone one step, why not the next?

      A week later, I spent an awful three hours with the detective. I was scared to go in, my GF at the time said I looked brave, but I felt like S. H. I. T. After a long crawl detailing the incidents (yes, plural), I was free to go, and home I went. Harrowed to say the least, the worst of it was my mother’s “help” (with a comment that broke my heart). I’ll spare the details, but yeah, not how you help your son out. And the wait began.

      Tuesday, I got a call on a private number, Human Services; after the identifying bit, the National Redress Scheme. My application was successful, all I had to do was select if I wanted a compensation payment, therapy, and a personal apology. Success, “Thanks,” and, “Goodbye.” And the world went dark.

      You’d think relief at the success. No, I went to deep meh. But knew I had to go through it, whether I understood it or not. Good old time to pray, “I don’t know what I need, show me what I need.” Evidently an outreach call, never mind there’s a GF saying I can speak to them whatever, but I really needed that other voice. Another day, more dark, and I held on; and that night, the feelings – I’m being vengeful, I’m not worth it.

      That understanding, the call advice, “Feelings aren’t forever,” and a good night’s sleep, boosted me Thursday. My resolve was to sign the paperwork and send it back as soon as I got it, no matter that vengeance/unworth. I got it Friday, signed, and sent it on its way – compensation and therapy, please, hold the apology (I think it’d ring hollow).

      Then got another call from a private number, the detectives. They’d charged my abuser, and the next step is the wait for court. Based on what I know of previous cases, and what I was told by the detective, justice be done. 

      I’m not celebratory. It’s not right, not when others might not get redress (or have it stretched out unnecessarily), not when others may not even see charges laid (it’s only one out of my three abusers), not when others are scared to report (I said in tears when the abuses were found out back in 1994, “Nothing happened,” and lied to the detective on the phone).

      Okay, I’ll stop pretending it’s about me, because these are the people I’m thinking of. Justice might be there, but it’s not always done, or sought, and sometimes gets thrown out, for various reasons. My outcome is a drop in a big ocean I wish wasn’t there, and I wish I could throw floaty rings in as needed.

      It’s my hope that, in this current world of reporting, of news of reporting, even despite losses, that those afraid will find strength – and support – to report. Can it be your hope, too? And something you can speak for?

      I’ll leave it there, and skip the usual good one – it’s heavy, and there are those who won’t see good come.

      Take care,

      T.M.

After a Time in the Wilderness

      Hi guys,

      Long time, no blog! Yes, it’s been like that. Okay, it’s not the Golden Crowned Lurgy keeping me down. I might’ve blogged more if that was the case. But life’s been, well, interesting, not very writey, but I’m making some headway into The Ways Out – chapter three, baby!

      So, how does it feel getting onto book two when I haven’t gotten anywhere on selling, much less advertising, The Ways In? And noting my style has tightened, and in a sudden side project (#writerlife) has seen me get even more economical? And that life’s been a bit more alluring than writing, and going to church?

      Okay, I really don’t know where I’m going with this blog. But in the spirit of perseverance, here goes answering.

      I feel weird writing TWO. In fact, I felt like I had to re-write the two chapters I’d already committed. Thanks to a text narrator read through, these read well, and are sitting much better with me now. Just a niggling doubt now, but I think I can leave that until editing.

      The weirdness kept me writing just snippets at a time. Today is almost two pages, when courtesy of a conversation that ended with “Can’t wait to read your next blog post,” I turned to writing this. Back to TWO, post readthrough, it doesn’t feel like I’ve gone bits at a time. But where I had planned a one page get through to a main moment, it’s stretched to two pages and I don’t know how long the next moment is going to take.

      In fact, I’m plotted out until the end, but found I have too much going on for the chapters I had planned. The aim was 23 chapters, same as with part one, but I think there’s going to be a few extra chapters by the time I’m done, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.

      Maybe I’m just being hard on myself. Maybe those parts of life that seem good, that have kept me company in recent weeks, have just been too alluring to get into writing. I think I let things get between me and the writing, and that much needed me-time. Or it was really just my meds change that was screwing with my sleep. Or everything, thrown in with pure lazy. I’m complex like that.

      I’ll leave it there, don’t want to wallow. But I’m going to plan to blog three weeks from now, let go of the ambition and leave myself room to keep it meaningful. Oh, and being that wonder of tax time, do that all important return, and spend some money on an editor and a cover – I need one for Smashwords.

      And a Jesus fish and a Darwin axolotl. And there’s a blog smile :D.

      Hope to be back to this sooner, and a bit more twittery to boot.

      Have a good one!

      T.M.

Disconnection

      Just a pleasant twist of the arm before I start, Three Ways: The Ways In is now available, check out the first chapter here, and get your copy on Amazon Australia, Amazon Canada, Amazon UK, and Amazon US! 

      Hi guys,

      Yep, I missed last fortnight. Nope, I was not in a blogging mood. Things have been, well, interesting and tiring me out. The joys of taking on other roles courtesy of the Golden Crowned Lurgy… and losing hours courtesy of the Golden Crowned Lurgy.

      Yes, COVID19 has finally hit my wallet, and I don’t know how I feel about it. Don’t get me wrong, I get it, a business’ role is to continue indefinitely into the future. Though why I’m losing a certain amount and the big boss half that is beyond me. Guess I’m a little jealous. It’s just, well… it just is. So, GCL 1, Trent meh.

      It’s not the end of the world, I’ve taken my measures to stay above water, so I can say I’m lucky in that regard. How many are unlucky? I don’t know. But I do miss my colleagues, and it’s a lonely time at the desk. Running is okay – ooh, did I mention I’m running food again?! – but, yeah, still lonely.

      So, what does anything of this have to do with disconnection? Given I’ve been okay with 

online church services, zoom recovery, a friend’s zoom sermon last night? It’s in me.

      I haven’t been writing very well. What little I’ve done on The Ways Out is bore-inspiring. Not the writing, that’s on point, and the chapters are going in a direction I like. The motivation has been, well… it just is. Writer’s Block 1, Trent meh.

      But I’ve had a killer cyberpunk idea that would likely stretch into a series, I sat down to a fantasy with an epic fight against wild boars that’s probably going to stretch into a series with GOT level background, and I want to write action, just not the one idea I want to do. But… I don’t know. Am I missing out with no sales of TWI? Am I just approaching TWO against the back to front direction I had planned?

      Knowing me, it’s probably a mix of things, hit home in my work change that’s playing up with my bipolar, and spurred on by that lack of sales. And being my story, nobody reading is purpose. Oh, and speaking of bipolar, it’s a dosage change on the cards, I don’t know if I’m yay or neigh.

      Yeah, that’s a deliberate play on words. All meh aside, I can still smile, still connect, still serve customers while feeling this disconnect in myself and in the post-GCL world…

      Sometimes, I feel fake – good old impostor syndrome. It takes a lot of energy to be on display as I am, though I am managing the busy and only serve one customer at a time, even with the phone ringing. It’s doable but has some weight. Hell, it takes a lot of energy just to be me, even when I sit down to write, or have a very awkward question put to me by a dating match – no, I’m not going there, but, yeah, it was, just, well…

      I’m going with everything is playing up on me now. I’ll just sift through the pieces as I go, put the puzzle together when I can, and worry about today. At least I know I’m connected to that.

      Here’s to another fortnight, catch you again soon, and have a good one,

     T.M.

Easter Irony, That Book I Wrote, and Me

      Hi guys,

      Well, it’s formally Easter (though it’s been Lentmas since mid-January, eggs and buns ahoy) – Oh, Western Christian Easter, Orthodox Easter is next week. And past three live-streamed mass from near-empty churches courtesy of the Golden Crowned Lurgy, yeah, I feel a part of the service, despite no bite of the bread or sip of the wine…

      Okay, I only got as far as the homily in the St Mary’s Sydney Good Friday service, when the Archbishop decided to decry technology, science, and governance. Ironically through the medium of technology, brought to us by science, from the mouth of someone who is part of a governing body.

      I get it, look to Christ in times of trial. But in the age of Golden-Crowned Lurgy, maybe it’s find Christ in scientists using technology to develop and test a vaccine, in governance showing leadership and steering us to reduced viral transmission.

      It’s no wonder the Church can be seen as out of touch. Admittedly, one Archbishop isn’t the whole Church, and one Bishop saying Coronavirus is a product of a deeper malaise (I see it as an opportunity to address that deeper malaise – carelessness towards the poor, the suffering, etc.).

      Anyway, the Bishop and the Priest’s homilies in my local diocese Saturday and today were better and more on point to the times we’re in. It is my mistake Friday to let a viewpoint put me off the service, the message that technology, science, government, while they can be used for good, can also do the gravest evil. But the Church has done evil, too, so I see the holistics.

      But Happy Easter, blessings of new life and grace to all. Sure that sounds religious, but that’s what recovery is, too, shame to grace, a fellowship to know and live with. Spiritual is the word. And while religion is all spirit, not all spirit is religion. And there’s the good one I usually wish, a warm gift.

      And how’s Three Ways? Going absolutely nowhere really slow. Sod it, I have a reader, and this side of tax time I have designs on a cover artist, maybe an editor, but after the car service, paying off the credit card – okay, part of paying off the credit card. The breaks of being a poor artist. But anyway, here’s my release and self-interview post, and here’s the chapter one tease. And fingers crossed, maybe you’ll click the buy button. Here’s hoping.

      And as I was going to link last fortnight, here’s my other big posts of first quarter, Gifts, and Writing Myself In. It feels a better time for it.

      And me? I’m doing well. I’m past the disconnect of online recovery, and already two meetings up and going for the third tonight. It might be ahead of where I’m at, and I might be bailing the meeting right on finish again, I know it’ll be glad for it.

      So, there it is. Nothing more to add. Hope you’re all safe and healthy, but let us remember the sick and those who lost their battle to the Lurgy, think of the poor and needy, and can come out of this crisis more human than when we went in.

      All the best,

      T.M.

On the Golden-Crowned Lurgy

      Hi guys.

      Well, it’s 29th March, a quarter of the year gone already, and boy, yeah, it’s a big’n. The plan was to celebrate my biggest posts of the quarter – but I want to have a look at the Golden-Crowned Lurgy that’s floating around the world, and got us out of toilet paper, pasta, gloves, and masks.

      So, where do I sit on the COVID19 reality? Apart from the social distancing, wearing gloves at work, lamenting I got ripped off buying masks on Amazon (no more clicking on Free Shipping for me). Not that I really need the masks. Getting back to things, it’s taken a bit for this bipolar guy in recovery to sense the mess the world is now in, so, here goes.

      “It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing.”

      One does not simply walk a Boromir line into Blogdor. And no, it’s not exactly Mordor. Sure, there was a bit of Mad Max over toilet paper at the shops, thankfully no Lord Humungous or Thunderdome came of it, but those bog roll shelves are still empty, whether you’re in Texas or Toorak. (That’s in the state of Victoria btw, nowhere near the bridge and fancy sail-shaped building. Ooh, free geography lesson! Oh, and bonus Google search, see for yourself what a Toorak Tractor is…)

      You’ve heard the word lockdown shouted about. I’ve heard plenty of tell of this word, being in stage two of a lockdown. Yeah, it’s meant a lot of people on the dole queue at Centrelink. But it still means me working at the shopping centre, even as shops have their doors closed. The most frightful refrain? Lock the whole country down.

      I’m not stressed. After all, supermarkets will stay open in any stage of a lockdown. We have two at work. Plus, chemists – a good thing, I do need my meds. I might need the doctor’s, not just for the Golden-Crowned Lurgy. Also, banks, the post office (where people bank and pay a variety of bills). But the closed stores, our equivalent of the Russian bread lines… Yeah, it’s sad to see.

      “Today’s Sesame Street is brought to you by the letter R, and the number 2020.”

      Yeah, I had my doubts earlier about that Recession word nobody really wants to say. The Fast-Moving Consumer Goods market might have taken off, but I accept my doubts were wrong. Not that I’ll say there’s a crash – well, the GFC is a Sunday picnic now. But in light of that call, I’m already wondering what the hell the world is going to look like after the dust clears.

      Thankfully, though it won’t be a flying purple unicorn that wees rainbows and poops blueberry muffins, I’m seeing from a conservative government that would have pushed austerity in the face of the GFC doing some very lefty things. The dole has gone up, though disability pensions haven’t (oops). There’s talk now of a UK-style wage guarantee, that was hosed down by one government MP a day ago (oops). And the economy getting put on ice.

      (Update 31/3/20 - we're now doing the UK-style wage guarantee. 🤦)

      Evidently, we can put the economy on hold. We apparently have the technology. I’m not sure we can bring it back faster, stronger, better, but there’s one glimmer of hope. It’s going to be painful from what I’ve read, but this has to be a time of working together, sharing the pain, not, as some have, capitalising on hand sanitiser, or worse, a supposed “cure,” and some outright quackery from a known conman involving silver.

      But this is probably what we’ll have to endure until that vaccine is finally ready. Another glimmer of hope… but 12-18 months away. Even then, there’s the possibility of the Golden-Crowned Lurgy evolving in that time, that could render the vaccine obsolete. Will there be enough money in coronaviruses for pharma to research and develop? Again, we’ll have to wait and see.

       “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

      And no, the Lollypop Guild does not want to welcome us to Munchkin Land, while there is a big bad witch going around that many of us up to technological date might not expect.

      The world has truly moved into the online age. Telecommuting en-masse, online primary/elementary school, the sometimes-bane of our existence our outlet in a world where going and congregating outside could mean GCL. And it’s not an outlet that everyone can access, and even for those with access, it can further the sense of isolation.

      I did my first online recovery meeting on Thursday. At the beginning, I was hopeful for the connection. Afterwards, I felt disconnected. I thought of connecting to Friday’s meeting, and in probably an addiction call, I had to do more than just turn up. I don’t know how I feel about tonight’s opportunity, again needing to grab the background reading to take part and share.

      And I… I know it’s not going to work if I don’t work it. But I don’t know if its going to make me more a part of it all, or drive that isolation stake deeper…

      I’m going to leave it at that. I wanted to go back to my best posts with this one. I’m glad this is the way I’ve gone. But at the same time, it’s sad to me, especially that I can’t wish the “good one” I normally do. These are interesting times, the greatest curse to befall anybody.

      Take care, all, and stay safe.

      T. M.

The Sales that Lurk in the Night

      Hi guys,

      Well, Three Ways has been available on Amazon for two weeks. Kind of limiting, really, but I don’t have a cover outside of what I could knock up on Kindle Direct Publishing, and can’t spread the love via Smashwords. Next on the menu, a cover, something that will have to wait until tax time. Baby steps…

      And as of the 6th of March, I’VE SOLD A COPY! One person has purchased 3W:TWI for their reading pleasure! I’ve succeeded as an author! Yes, one or one million, a reader is success. Now about the other 999,999…

      For a start, this is, well, just the start.

      Having not put TWI up for free, but at the introductory low of US$0.90 kindle, US$10 paperback, I haven’t moved the nearly-400 copies I did when I put TSH up out for nothing. Even with the Faceplant ad (read my book and see what I did there, nudge nudge) I ran for 10 days. Maybe giving away for nothing would be a better move, and maybe the price points are too low to take seriously? I don’t know.

      Then there’s that title-du-clickbait, potential turnoff. A risk I’m taking, working for the ways to look at relationships, the self, the world, showing up like a bedroom activity. In a book that isn’t about that bedroom activity. Okay, I’m hoping for the clickbait to work, but I’m not loaded or connected like a certain author who put their book out at $10. Eek alert.

      Then there’s the swearing on the first page – granted, from Jimmy as a counterpoint to Cole – but still risky. But the book is set in Australia, the characters are Australian, and, yeah, we swear. And I do believe if there wasn’t swearing, I’d get more complaints for it. What’s an author to do to tell their own story, from their own, blue-collar viewpoint? “This above all, to thine own self be true.”

      (Speaking of which, I went to the fancy sail-shaped building for Hamlet last weekend, with Hamlet played by a Harriet who brought a butch haircut and the batcrap crazy, and sat on the stage edge to share, ‘To be, or not to be,’ with us. Awesome. And the ending is intense AF. Money well spent!)

      Then there’s that big risk I’m taking on page one. “This novel contains traumatic themes and scenes, and may be triggering. Please use your discretion before reading, and maintain your safety.” Am I showing a duty of care? Or am I screaming from atop a neon sign the words upon it, “DON’T READ MY BOOK!”? This is a toughie in a world where you never know who might be reading, or what they’ve been subjected to.

      Or is it just not quite the time, the sales yet to come, hidden away in a pocket of the internet waiting for the click to enable them? Let’s face it, I don’t have reviews yet, I’m on Twitter hiatus for Lent, advertising is going to be a matter of once a month with present funding, no spare change lying around to pull off a virtual book tour, blah, blah, and blah…

      I don’t know. And feelings-wise, I’m a little meh, expectant of this subtle start, and ready to kick the can as needed. It might not net me a gazillion sales, or ten for a couple of months, but I’m tiny, a bit part, a voice crying out in a wilderness the size of the Milky Way. That poor player who struts and frets his hour on the stage. (Yes, I do like my Shakespearean nihilism).

      I’m not sure what else to say, but if you’ve come across this, please head on over to the sample page, see what and my writing and especially my dialogue does for you, if the characters move you, and maybe, just maybe, click those links for the rest. Shameless promotion, yes, bit of a plea, indeed, but this is the lot of an Indie author.

      And that’s me signing off. Hope you all have a good one!

     T. M.

Three Ways – The Ways In

Presently Available on Kindle and in Paperback

Amazon Australia  –  Amazon Canada  –  Amazon UK  –  Amazon US

Three Ways - The Ways In

      Hi guys

      Well, it's finally that time where I get to shout from the rooftops THREE WAYS - THE WAYS IN IS NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON (insert hysterical cheering here)!

Amazon US      Amazon Australia      Amazon Canada      Amazon UK

      This has been a long time coming, not just from starting out, but also from being blocked for 18 months, and I feel good about it - I wasn't sure how I was going to feel before. Now I can get on with The Ways Out, let's hope there's no blocking there!

      I don't really know what else to say in this post. Well, apart from the self interview below. The book is just done, all the sweat and tears weren't for nothing, but there's no gushing. Like Cole and his name, when Jane asks, it just is. So, I'll leave it there.

      As always, have a good one, and I hope you enjoy The Ways In on Kindle or in Paperback
      T. M.

- - - AUTHOR SELF-INTERVIEW - - -

      What inspired me to write Three Ways?

      First, my sister asking me, years ago, “Why don’t you write a book about yourself?” I didn’t want to at the time, I wanted to escape myself.

      Years later, I had an erotic encounter idea that morphed with a need to be myself in a committed relationship, after I’d put myself away. It latched onto my sister’s words, and sent me on the path to write a romance. And then I laughed – and knew I had to write spurred on by 90s Eurodance.

      What does the title mean?

      How many ways can you look at your relationships, yourself, or the world? Three – physical, mental, and spiritual.

      What can I tell you about The Ways In?

      It’d be expected that presenting your true self in a book is the realm of autobiography. Being a fiction writer, an autobiographical main character in a fictional story was the perfect match.

      Falling into romance on a few of movies and looking up Fifty Shades on Wikipedia, there are conventions and tropes, and early on I was meeting them but also twisting them, and commenting on the genre which, if you go into some stories, gets pretty messed up.

      And if you like your dialogue, doses of humour and interesting imagery, great kissing, and bedroom heat, you’re in for a treat.

      What did I learn while writing The Ways In?

      I learned how brave I was, not just the whole unveiling thing, but in facing something I’ve feared, including something actually said to me by someone close to me. It tends to go over my head now, still hurtful and ignorant, but empty.

      Why is Three Ways set in Sydney, Australia?

      Besides being the home city (sort of, I was born near Newcastle), I was toying with an idea for a book set in the US, to show up Stephen Koonts for getting Australia very wrong in UFO using the powers of Google and Google Maps.

      When Three Ways popped in my head, I knew it was an opportunity to show actual Sydney, real suburbs, places, the colour of Australian currency. But I kept it as far away from the Bridge and Fancy Sail-Shaped Building as possible.

      If it was made into a movie, who would star in it?

      I’m hoping Australian actors, but nobody big. Ultimately it doesn’t matter who plays the roles, I don’t have character descriptions, so you could drop in Ryan Gosling if you wished (hint hint).

      What about your short story, To See His Face?

      It’s part of my plan to keep the ending secret from those who would turn to the last page – you know who you are.

      It’s also my initial understanding having found my way to spiritual practice. I’ll let the story speak for itself.

      What happens next in The Ways Out?

      That’s for me to write, and you to find out.

      But for the unknown man in To See His Face, it’s to take on Rigola’s mission, live in a place of last resort, and lead one of greatest need back to reconcile.

THREE WAYS - THE WAYS IN

- Now available from Amazon -

Lent And The Art of Giving Up/A Stuff

      Hi guys,

      Well, I was planning on that re-lease of Three Ways this weekend, but, y’know, bipolar idea, poorly planned, and life/work in the way of getting through chapters. But as another week isn’t going to kill me. here’s what I was going to post next week.

      It’s coming up to that time of year… Okay, it’s a different time every year courtesy of going on a lunar calendar and crafting a medieval table isn’t perfect (indulge yourself here).

      No, it’s not Easter yet, though the shops think it is. But its almost the 46 days of Lent. Take out the Sundays, and you have 40 fasting days to remember J’s fasting in the desert, facing the three human temptations. And, as the crucifix in my church’s side chapel portrays a rather ripped Lord and Saviour, benching rocks, doing crunches, and squat-thrusting.

      “But hang on, isn’t religion irrelevant?” I’ll get into this another time. Here’s just me going on my second Lent from Wednesday 26th. “Fine, we’ll talk about it later. Go on, give up meat and stuff.”

      Yes, going without meat is a known one, some on the Holy days, some for the full-ascetic 46 days. Dairy can be thrown in, too. Some might say it’s not much, though I kinda ruined myself towards the end last year. First year Catholic, the breaks. But through it came the thought of and prayer for those doing without meat, dairy, and espresso coffee.

      Such a small thing, but so very profound to me. Then there’s the whole penitential side, popping along to the Stations of the Cross – which, if you look at it right, is the entire human condition –, and, yes, breaking out the laundry list before the big three days. Plus, the powerful, OMG that hits home sight of the priest lying prostate (yes, it’s jaw-dropping).

      So that was last year. Something changed for me, and it struck me in a blackout last week to consider those without power in its electrical and literal senses (that last one just hit me now). What about this year?

      Well, meat and dairy is back on the hitlist for 46 days. I’ve already cut out my $38 a week espresso coffee habit, except for a few here and there, but will keep away for 46 days. And I’ve been co-sponsoring a student through The Smith Family since August, so going a bit further for those without things.

      But there’s something else I’ve been feeling since going into recovery, that others in my group have shared. Loneliness. Being bipolar, addictive, is isolating stuff. And I’ve been trying to fix it in that something to do with likes and retweets. So, I’m going to do something that could hurt, but put me closer to those without connection, and by and large, powerless.

      40 days no twitter. Yes, I’m taking Sundays off because I’m still going to blog, got that book to re-lease, and twitter is one path to traffic. But 40 days throwing my phone down, itching for connection, with only the trudge of prayer to get me through, all to be empathic.

      “So what?” An interesting question. All I’ve said is that I’m going on Lent. But what about you? Sure, Lent is a Christian thing, but empathy is in human nature. How better to build it than to aim yourself in the direction of someone missing out?

      Why not, for 46 days, go without your coffee, or your meat, your social media, save the money up, and give to the charity that suits you best? No, I’m not asking you to come through the doors of the church, this isn’t an agenda. It’s a suggestion to dig into your humanity for a couple of days, put your mind on someone else without what you have and hold dear, and do that little bit you can to lift those people up, even by a fraction.

      A tough ask? Just as tough as you want to make it. Is this it for now? Okay, I might have another Lent post, but have something else in mind. And Three Ways? Next week, fingers crossed. And that’s all I have.

      See you next week, have a good one, and I hope you have a think about that question.

      T. M.

Writing Myself In

      Hi guys,

      Well, it’s getting near to that re-lease date (see what I did there?), and The Ways In will be yours to swallow, spat back out, and swallow again – I liked Anaconda, and I will die on this hill. But speaking of which, here’s, well, a few things…

      I ran into some “advice” on twitter that reeked of “this is my view” – and stand by there being too much of the person vested in it, while admitting I did not respond in the best manner. Okay, I was a prick. But at the start of the advice was “Don’t write in your own wounds,” and the core was, “Wounds are non-fiction.” Never mind you might write about rape, domestic abuse, torture, etc.

      So where do I stand, writing an autobiographical character in a fictional story, using my own memories, experiences, and putting the character through things I went through? Well, I felt personally attacked – one of the joys of poor boundaries and inability to differentiate.

      Handling criticism isn’t my strong point. It goes with the territory of dealing with unnecessary criticism and put-downs from school peers, parents. Oh joy. But with so much of me on display, I’m not just up against normal deriding, any flow issues (I think my timing is out), but personal deriding. If Cole Brodas cops flack, that’s me copping flack.

      I haven’t filtered myself for Cole. In fact, as things have changed for my life, I look back and feel the drudge of, “Oh, he’s undiagnosed bipolar,” “Oh, he should be in recovery,” “That scene shows unhealthy boundaries.” It scares the crap out of me. Have I crossed a line? Am I doing worse than I pictured I would be doing at the beginning? How big is this problem?

      I suppose that’s my risk, thanks to my sister asking, “Why don’t you write a story about yourself?” at 19, and picking up the gauntlet a decade later. It’s what a writer does with a book, send the baby out into the world to live, fall in love, go to their wedding, and have a bunch of soldiers come in to chop it and the guests to pieces – wait, that was Game of Thrones. The Red Penning?

      But when this idea popped into my head, it made me laugh. I’m writing a zero-deaths romance after putting about twenty people to the sword? That’s a warm, buzzy memory, an urge to hit that publish button (for reals now, sorry about the mix-up before). Maybe that’s the only reminder I need to accept the risk and whack the world with TWI.

      As for you, should you play keep yourself away from your books? Maintain the wall between you and the story? Write your wounds in memoirs only? You do what you believe is best.

      But I will say to those with mental illness, those recovering, those who’ve been through a lot, and art is your therapy, put yourself in – in a safe way, of course, you don’t need all the details.

      And for all, why not do the Clive Cussler (LOVE YOUR WORK!) and put a caricature of yourself with a donkey sidekick in your books as a comic relief McGuffin.

     

      Yay, I made it a positive finish. Phew! As almost always, have a good one!

      T. M.