My Name In Your Mouth

***MY NAME IN YOUR MOUTH***

Before I begin with the body of this blog entry, I want everybody to know that this isn’t aimed at anybody in particular nor is it meant to be an attack in the first place. This is about something that’s been going on in my mind for quite a while now. I’m sure a lot of my writer friends can relate, or at least I hope they do. But anytime somebody mentions me in association with my writing in real life or in a You Tube video…I panic. I get this anxious sensation in the pit of my tummy and my first instinct is to turn around and run away (or cringe if I don’t have an available exit). These people could be saying the nicest, friendliest things about my work, but I’m still Clockwork Oranged into believing it’s worth being nervous about. Why is that?

I’m no stranger to criticism and I’ve had a lot of it in my career. But I’m also at a place in my life where I’ve come to depend on critiques and notes like the mature adult that I am. Although critiques are necessary to any author’s success, it doesn’t make the nervousness go away. In fact, the longer I have to wait for it, the higher the anxiety builds. Yes, I know I sound like a sensitive snowflake with thin skin and a strong need for a safe space. If I could choose to be more durable, I’d be fucking invincible. It never gets easier for me with age and I can’t understand why.

I’ll always remember a time in late 2010 when I wrote music-themed fan fiction and posted it live on Face Book. One of those stories was called “Awake and Alive” and it was about a young man named Junie Fritz, who wanted to break his own shyness by going to a Skillet concert in Seattle and making friends with a cute girl named Shawn Tucker. My brother’s girlfriend at the time Susan (who doesn’t live with us anymore) caught me in the hallway and said, “So I read your story about Junie!” Without missing a beat I wave goodbye to her and try to retreat into my room. Turns out she liked the story and wanted to praise it (despite the fact that Junie rode a fucking ATV to the arena).

Another example of wanting to cringe and/or retreat was Mother’s Day earlier this year, when I gifted my mom a copy of Poison Tongue Tales. She’s one of my biggest fans and wanted to see a sample of what I’ve published, so I gave her that. She was so happy to have it and immediately jumped into the Two-Sentence Horror Stories section. I cringed hard when she read some of those stories out loud, not because of her, but because I was listening to my own writing and I wanted to get the fuck out of there. It’s like I’ve been conditioned into thinking my own writing sucks by the various haters I’ve had over the years.

Still to this day I have that anxious feeling whenever somebody wants to talk about my writing in real life or on You Tube. Sometimes I feel this way whenever it’s in written form. For a guy who’s trying to market myself to the public so that I can get as many book sales as possible, this is quite the barrier. I should WANT to have my name in people’s mouths. I should WANT the free advertising. I should WANT to have the limelight on me 24/7. But I feel tiny every time my writing comes up in conversation.

Sometimes it’s not even a low self-esteem issue. Sometimes I write a personal story in an email or social media post and there’s a certain part of that story that makes me nervous to talk about it. Just the other day, I wrote an email to my mother detailing why I didn’t want to go on dates when I was in middle school. The biggest reason was because my dad was going through nasty shit with his ex-wives at the time, so I didn’t want to pay alimony or child support to another woman (even though I was fucking thirteen). I told mom that I didn’t want to play second fiddle to a girlfriend who would no doubt prevent me from achieving my college dreams. It didn’t help matters that I watched the Millennium episode “A Room with No View” right around that time and saw Lucy Butler get touchy-feely and kissy-kissy with her hostages. Obviously, things have changed since then and if the opportunity presented itself, I’d definitely go on a date with a nice woman. But still, that was quite the revelation for my mother.

So why all the nervousness? Why all the fuss? Why can’t I just put on my suit of armor and deflect bullets like Superman? Why can’t I just…you know…”toughen up”, like a stereotypical male would say in a Skillset Magazine article? Did my mental illnesses make me this way? Am I just a naturally sensitive person? Do I have too much empathy? Does anybody else feel this sense of panic whenever they hear their own writing? Have I really been Clockwork Oranged into believing I suck? What’s going on here? I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying….well, that would be a good time to retreat to your room and lock the door. No mountain climbing until you calm the fuck down.

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER PROGRESS***

As of today, I’ve written the prologue and first two chapters of this reloaded project. The third chapter will see an argument take place between Torger Manson and Shelly Atwood. Torger wants Shelly to be a businesswoman first and a lover second if she’s going to deny him access to the sex slaves. If you’re not cringing right now, check your pulse. Shelly has already forcibly deflowered Windham, so any conversation she has with Torger about sex will give you the feeling of spiders crawling on your skin. Wish me luck!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Between suicide and all your dirty lies. Are you looking sad for girls? Are you looking bad for sympathy? Between suicide and secrets that you hide. Are you feeling pain like birds? Are you trading pearls for misery? It’s getting hard to say open your eyes. Needles haven’t fixed anything. I guess we’re millions of faces waiting somewhere for somebody else’s place to feel like home. Love is a refuge with fears and doubts. It’s the Jesus on your necklace. Love is a silence to your cry outs. Sleepless hideouts. The cheapest, the fabulous.”

-Your Favorite Enemies singing “Open Your Eyes”-

We Own the Night

***WE OWN THE NIGHT***

Zombie brain happens to everybody no matter how good they are at hiding it. Sometimes your brain is so exhausted that you don’t feel like doing shit that day. You’ve overworked yourself the previous day, you’re stressed out, you didn’t sleep well, whatever the case may be, you’re not immune. It’s especially frustrating when you’re scrolling for memes on Face Book and see one that says, “You should be writing!” Yes, I understand that it’s meant to be motivating, but sometimes it can feel like a slap in the face to someone having a zombie brain day.

The operative word in that last sentence is “day”. You can go through the whole day snoozing and lazing about, but when the stars and moon light up the night sky, you own that motherfucker. You’ve gotten nothing done during the daytime, but it’s not too late to get shit done in the darkest hours of the night. All you need to tell yourself is…”We own the night!” Whether you’re getting shit done at 10:30, midnight, or 3:00 in the morning, you’re telling your zombie brain to go fuck itself and you’re defying the odds. And then when you wake up the next day, you can do it with a smile knowing the previous night’s darkness brought out the beast within you. You’re an artistic werewolf. You’re a vampire thirsting for the blood of your characters. And it feels soooooo fucking good!

Sometimes when I’m lying awake at night, lyrics for a song idea will come to me. And then the clock strikes two in the morning and I disconnect my oxygen mask to go write those lyrics down. That same night, those lyrics are live on my social media account and I go to bed a happy man. It’s better to lose a few hours of sleep if it means you’ll remember how your story or poem is going to be written. When you wake up in the morning, it could all disappear and the world will never know.

I tell you this personal story not to brag, but to let my audience know that owning the night can be done. If Donald Dumbass can tweet insensitive shit at three in the fucking morning, you can write something better around the same time at night. If you’ve spent the whole day being mentally fried, your energy could potentially come back to you by the time darkness falls. Everybody else in the house is snoozing soundly, so you have no distractions. It’s just you and your limitless imagination. And once you’ve finished, you can drift off into cloudland and have weird ass dreams about being naked in high school…or is that just me?

I hope I don’t sound too much like those Face Book memes that shame people for not writing. If you must tuck yourself in after a long day of zombie brain, you most certainly can do that. If you don’t own the night, you can certainly own the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. And so on and so forth. But there will be some days where you don’t feel like doing a goddamn thing, and that’s okay, because we’re all human beings. Zombie brain is a universal problem no matter how much people brag about being hard workers. Sometimes zombie brain is your mind and body’s way of telling you to slow the fuck down. Even Vin Diesel in the Fast & Furious movies has to know when to slow his driving down. Why do you think there are so goddamn many of those movies to begin with?

Do you own the night or are you a daywalker? Does your current schedule allow you the kind of creativity you want to produce? Always make time for what you dream of doing…even if that time is seven minutes past Zombie O’clock. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***POISON TONGUE TALES 2 & DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I have drawings on my social media accounts of Ronan Crow and Kain Venomtongue. That’s because those two are a major part of my next Poison Tongue Tales 2 story. It’s called “Dark Marriage” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Kain Venomtongue, Elf Warlock
2. Ronan Crow, Bird Swordsman
3. Sheryl Sweet, Human Bride
4. Nameless Snake Minions

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Kain is at the top of his ziggurat getting ready to forcibly marry Sheryl through a necromantic ritual. The Dark Marriage will give Kain authoritative and magical powers since Sheryl is the daughter of a powerful wizard king. Sheryl is bound to a crucifix with a ball gag in her mouth while the snake minions line up on either side of the ziggurat’s stairs. Ronan has been charged with the task of rescuing Sheryl before the ritual is allowed to take place. He has little time to complete his mission and a small army of opponents to battle through.

EXTRA NOTE: Sheryl Sweet is next on the chopping block for the Dark Fantasy Warriors series. I’ve been debating with myself if I want to draw her while she’s strapped to the crucifix. Imagine the kind of reference picture I’d have to search for on Google to get that effect. It would be…weird to say the least. Hehe!

***BORN A CRIME***

I’m sure you guys have also seen reviews on my social media accounts of Kick-Ass 3 and Fang and Claw, two badass books that have earned passing grades. I expect my next reading adventure, Born a Crime by Trevor Noah, to be enjoyable as well. How can you go wrong with Trevor Noah? He’s the host of the Daily Show for a reason: because he’s funny and eye-opening at the same time. Born a Crime is a memoir detailing his childhood in apartheid-era South Africa. The book was originally a Mother’s Day present for my mom and she loved it to pieces. Now she’s given it back to me so that I can have the same educational experience as she did.

***PHONE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

ME: Hello?

MOM: Is this the person to whom I’m speaking?

ME: Who else would it be?

MOM: Good answer, Garrison!