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.