things that aren’t terrible

You may have noticed the new banner gracing the top of the page and the face in the corner. I’ve been slowly aligning my visuals on various social media platforms while working on this whole “being a brand” thing, and now here we are.

I hate seeing myself in photographs, so I commissioned a few friends to take a shot at capturing me in art. I provided a few references photos, but gave them a long leash. My only directions were “serial killer vibe” and “maybe a little better looking?” Unless we meet in person, this is as close as you’re going to get to knowing what I look like. You can tell me how they did.

I was quite chuffed by the results. I thought it would be nice to introduce everyone. Let me remind you that all of these gentlemen are available for commissions.

Artist credits from left to right:

Ken Knudtsen

A Charlotte-based artist, Ken Knudtsen is a relocated New York writer and artist (Wolverine) and the creator of My Monkey’s Name is Jennifer (SLG Publishing). He has also worked on animation for projects developed by Comedy Central, Robert Reich, and PBS.

The title character of My Monkey’s Name is Jennifer is a poorly-named ape adopted by a family to keep company with their daughter, who dresses him in party clothes for her tea parties. Filled with rage at his hosts and slightly unhinged, Jennifer nonetheless keeps them safe from a series of evil scientists seeking subjects for their experiments. Ken talks about his work here. You can find one of the Jennifer collections on Amazon.

I first encountered Ken’s work with Jennifer – monkeys + evil scientists = easy sell – and joined his mailing list, back when social media consisted of writing your email address on a piece of paper. Over the years, we’ve met in real life at a handful of comic cons and I commissioned Ken’s art for at least a half dozen publications from my small press, which I’ll write about more shortly.

Luke Spooner

Another artist I met through my small press and have used liberally for cover art and some personal projects. Luke is an artist and illustrator living in the South of England. He earned a First Class degree in illustration from the University of Portsmouth. His work includes personal projects, as well as numerous commissions for book covers and interior illustrations, as well as conceptual design and business branding. Luke has illustrated stories by Neil Gaiman and Clive Barker as part of Gutted: Beautiful Horror Stories and Behold: Oddities Curiosities and Undefinable Wonders, as well as two stories by Stephen King, which appeared in You, Human and Gamut Magazine.

Check out Luke’s website and Instagram for more of his dark fantasy and horror work.

Rick Worley

Rick Worley is the cartoonist behind the comic A Waste of Time, an interconnected series of comic strips and longer stories that are sometimes autobiographical, sometimes fantastical, and always packed with Rick’s obsessions: Star Wars, culture wars, comics, Bill Watterson, and cute twinks. His cast of characters include a closeted fundamentalist coke-addicted teddy bear, an oversexed fox, a romantically doomed robot, and Capitalist Pig, who take turns serving as Rick’s mouthpieces for his deeply considered ruminations on art, commerce, pop culture, romance, and sex.

You can find Rick on Patreon and check him out on YouTube, where his film analysis is earning him a growing fandom.

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Writers love lists and we really love making lists of other writers. I have plenty:

• My favorite writers
• Writers I’ve read the most works by
• Writers who’ve influenced me
• Writers who’ve influenced my writing

While there is overlap, those lists are quite distinct. Very few appear on all four.

Here’s another: What writers would I like to meet?

All of them!

Ok…some of them. But still, that would be a lengthy list.

Which deceased writers do I wish I could have met, given the opportunity when they were alive? That’s an interesting one…

Patricia Highsmith
Caustic, cynical, racist, angry, and misanthropic only scratch the surface of Patricia Highsmith’s reputation. She has a bad rep, especially these days, when even the slightest slip of the tongue or insufficiently rapturous allyship can bring out the internet scolds. One can only imagine their response to someone as single-mindedly vitriolic as Highsmith.

Even her fans don’t like her. In the introduction to her recent graphic novel biography of Highsmith, Grace Ellis describes the writer as “appalling,” “destructive”, “a terrible person,” “nothing short of evil,” and someone who should be condemned “as vehemently as possible.” A blurb on the back cover calls her “vile and miserable.”

Thirty years dead and still so problematic a biographer is terrified of being judged guilty by association. Not sufficiently problematic to preclude Ellis from authoring the biography, but yucky enough to denounce after the fact. Ellis added that she “took no pleasure in writing about her prejudices,” but presumably her anhedonia did not extend to cashing the check.

You can search Google for some choice Highsmith quotes and in fact, they are quite awful. Some are anecdotal, though well-sourced, and some come straight from her diaries. It’s tempting to hope her quotes were taken out of context, but it’s hard to identify exactly what context would have rendered them appropriate. I talk shit with friends and have a dark sense of humor, but even I have been taken aback at some of what’s been attributed to her. The key point is there’s no indication her comments were made in jest or in an environment where they were welcome.

It’s likely Highsmith would have hated me, and I would have hated her back, the little shit. But I also hate mobs and I’m loathe to bandwagon the dead. And fuck it, she was a brilliant writer of some of my favorite books.

So, regardless of her crust, I’d love to spend an evening with her, not for the bonhomie but to try to understand where she came from. I want the context not of her words, but of her anger. Because that was one angry woman, and anger does not arrive unbidden. It rises up from wounds and serves as armor. It is a gift from the world. And as an independent woman, a lesbian, in the 1940s and 50s, trying to assert her talent in a male-dominated occupation, I’m certain the world bestowed many gifts on Patricia Highsmith. Having written for comic books – including for Stan Lee – and for trashy paperback hacks and for traditional publishers, I bet she had some great stories about the men of letters. As a lesbian who came of age during the Great Depression and World War II, I bet she had some devastating ones as well.

James Baldwin
I can’t guarantee James Baldwin would desire my company, but I imagine after a few cocktails, with some soulful dance music on the turntable, he and I would hit it off quite finely. And what a spectacular playlist that would be:

A brilliant mind and writer, gay and black in an era where neither was much fun and a life as both must have seemed nigh impossible to navigate. I’d ask a lot of insipid fan questions, certainly. Who was his inspiration for Giovanni’s Room? Did he sleep with Marlon Brando?

I wouldn’t even need to say much. Who wouldn’t want to simply sit and hear the man speak? A voice like liquid mercury dipped in butter. I’d gladly listen to him weigh in on the white devil, if that’s all he wished to discuss.

Joan Didion
Happy, keenly observant, California tan, 1970s orange and avocado Joan, not the grieving Joan of her later years. This is my fantasy, so why be sad?

Joan Didion reminds me of my late friend Sharan, who friends affectionately called Mama. I imagine Highsmith drinking dinner and Baldwin holding court at a restaurant, but I picture Joan putting together a simple but solid, literati dinner party meal, waving me through the kitchen and onto the back deck, offering cocktails and nibbly things as the entree simmered. While my interest is literary, I see her as both teacher and mother, raconteur and listener, giver of advice and drier of tears. Didion was an eyewitness to societal upheavals, the death of her family, and finally the Last View. She’d seen some shit, and she’d have many observations to share.

Harlan Ellison
Like Patricia Highsmith, but shorter and with less charm, Ellison would be a smashing dinner companion, provided he didn’t start a fist fight. Goad him into talking shit about people who wronged him, in real life or only in his imagination. Start with Republicans and work your way up to Star Trek.

Kurt Vonnegut
The funny uncle you always wanted, gentle, wise, the perfect combination of wicked smart and world weary. I wish I’d had someone around to tell my younger self to spend more time doing what I love and to not care whether I did things perfectly, but only that I did them with gusto. I wish someone had explained “learn by doing” better. If he could have read my stories and given me practical advice, recommended better books to read, explained the importance of having creative friends, that would have been even better. A little older, I wouldn’t mind asking Vonnegut what the hell do I do now?

Jenny Terrell
You’ve never heard of Jenny Terrell, but if Kurt Vonnegut is the writing uncle you always wanted, Jenny was the mom or aunt or teacher who treated you like a real person made of gold, and encouraged your interests and idiosyncrasies exactly when you needed it most.

I published a few of Jenny’s short stories in my small press. You can find one of them here. She wrote a very cute novel about nuns on the run, which you can find here. She was funny and talented, and with a few words could make you believe you were the brightest and most talented boy in the room. I never met Jenny in real life, but we emailed a number of times. She was one of a handful of writers I’d published who I friended on my personal Facebook page, and we shared greetings here and there. Jenny passed away a few years ago, having reached her early 90s. A good run by any stretch, but it’s never enough. She was a real doll, in the old, best sense of the word. I wish I could have met her, to tell her in person how much her encouragement meant to me, but I’m sure she got plenty of that without me. She was that kind of person.

Runners-up:

Ray Bradbury – I don’t want to have dinner with Bradbury as much as I’d like to have writing classes with him throughout eternity.

Octavia Butler – A brilliant talent, gone too soon. While I’d love to share a post-mortem meal, I suspect I’d find myself tongue-tied, a neanderthal in the presence of a divine intelligence.

Joe Orton – A writer I admire from a distance, but would probably loathe close up. Wicked intelligence, insouciance, and a puckish sense of adventure are attractive qualities, until you come home to find a strange man in your bed and all your library books defaced. He’s exactly the kind of guy I would have dated when I was younger, but only because I thought I could change him. I still spit when I hear Kenneth Halliwell’s name, though. We were robbed of a brilliant writing career.

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I hope my all my friends in the US had a safe and happy Fourth of July holiday.

The above has been my view the last 4 days of writing, reading, eating, and napping. I’m back to work tomorrow morning but I enjoyed my 96 hours of no responsibility, no chores, no stress, and no demands on my time, and that wasn’t terrible.

As irony goes, having a book called Four Thousands Weeks: Time Management for Mortals sitting on your bookshelf for 2 years waiting to be read is pretty spot on. However, I’ve found over the past few years that books come into my life – or I allow them in – when I need them and when I’m ready for them.

Oliver Burkeman has written an anti-time management book for anyone who believes that with enough organization, the right day planner, and a bit more focus, we too can produce more work, avoid more problems and mistakes, and generally wring more and better life experiences in the hours we’re gifted.

Unfortunately, there’s no such perfect state of being – at least one that is sustainable for more than a week or two – and in fact, Burkeman argues that trying to “manage” time as though it were a resource like water or money, prevents us from engaging in our life’s work and enjoying the experiences that come to us every day.

This book won’t help you organize your day or suggest six habits you should master before 7 a.m. or try to convince you that life can be under your control. It will encourage you to slow down, to accept that you can never accomplish everything you want to do in this life – your 4000 weeks, give or take – and maybe help you focus on and find fulfillment in the two or three things that matter most to you.

Over the years, I’ve tried every approach, app, and habit that was supposed to help me be “productive” and happy – the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, to-do lists, life goals broken down into yearly, monthly, and daily tasks, Zero Inbox, Eat the Toad, and more day planners and apps than you can imagine. But I found, as do most people, that any time saves around the margins quickly was eaten up by a new task. A weekly hour of efficiency at work was rewarded with a new project that required 8-10 hours per week to accomplish with reasonable quality. A successful day crossing items off my to-do list gave me a sense that tomorrow I could cross off even more and somehow drag myself closer to that future day when I could relax and be happy.

However, that sense of fulfillment kept getting pushed further and further into the future. Eventually, every productivity hack became just another damn thing I had to keep track of during the day and would soon fail, prompting a search for a new, improved, hackier tool.

Burkeman encourages readers to shift that thinking and his message comes at an appropriate time. I’ve been circling this idea for a while – deemphasizing word count goals and getting published and having an audience in favor of simply indulging in writing whatever I feel like writing at any given time. Why was I working so hard for a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment in the future, when I could have that now, if I simply cared a bit more about actions I can control and a lot less about those I can’t?

Burkeman puts it into words and says it more eloquently than I would have, but I was ready for his book this week, even though its been on the shelf for months. I’ve already done the groundwork and, as he predicts, the more zen I get about publishing and having a readership – which I can’t really control – the more I actually write and the more I enjoy it.

And that’s not terrible.

Back again for the second time…or possibly the third. But who’s counting? I think (believe? aspire?) that this time I’m ready to start blogging again semi-regularly. I feel adequately decompressed from my prior toxic work environment. It’s been about 2 weeks since I’ve woken up at 3 a.m. with work jitters. I’ve been working on a short story and catching up with some of my favorite writing blogs. I’m happy to feel creative again. I feel unclenched. That my current employer rolls up at 5 o’clock like an abandoned Old West town certainly helps.

Given the heat wave smothering the mid-Atlantic right now, I plan to spend a lot of time indoors over the next few months. A good chance to get some writing and blogging done. I’ll also make a point to return to weekly kudos and gratitudes, rather than life updates.

I should make a point to put up an occasional placeholder post, so you don’t think I’ve forgotten you or died. I fully intend to get back into my creative work, as soon as life things chill a bit.

Passed the one month mark at my new job and am still beyond pleased with the change. I already feel ramped up and productive. I still have a lot to pick up, but I’m feel confident that I’m contributing and can bring more to the table. And everyone is so nice. And talented. And committed. The contrast is astounding.

That said, I’ve been busy with work and mentally on-the-go for a few weeks. I’ve also been taking time to “clear the decks” of some home and life projects that needed attention. Once I get a few things off my plate, I’ll feel more relaxed and able to concentrate on creative work. The “clear the decks” approach is championed by Jessica Abel, a creative and life coach whom I’ve mentioned here before. She asserts that when your life is cluttered, you aren’t able to pay proper due to your creative work. Having too much on your mind and feeling pulled in multiple directions isn’t conducive to fostering a creative mental state. I agree!

So, the last few weeks have been all about me “clearing the decks” – starting (unexpectedly) with my employment, and continuing on into finances, my physical and emotional well-being, and my home environment. My plan is to have things in place by the end of May so that my mind is clear of my non-creative clutter (The creative kind will always be with me). Once life is back on cruise control, I’ll feel more free to indulge in the creative.

That said, I have been writing on the side. I tried to jump back into the novel-in-progress a few weeks ago, but I needed a major stress detox. In the meantime, I had another idea for a novel, because of course I did, and have been researching and sketching out ideas. The concept is a bit out-there, so this could be pretty interesting or shit on a shingle. But I’m having fun, and that’s not terrible.

As huzzah-ed last week, I started my new job last Monday. Busy and distracted, but I did get a bit of writing done. Nothing to write home about but it was good to get some thoughts out of my head and onto paper or screen.

I still have some mental detox to complete but I feel good. I don’t miss my previous job at all and in fact, the whole experience feels a bit unreal. When Friday afternoon rolled up, I felt I’d had a successful first week and realized…it had only been a week since my last day at Company X. It felt like months. I don’t know if that’s due to the dramatic decrease in stress or if I’ve emotionally unencumbered myself so thoroughly that the other place has receded that quickly in memory, but either way I’m ok with it.

Unlike the job I left to go to that place, I didn’t have any work friends. That’s not to say I had work enemies, unless you count their cumulative effect on my blood pressure. There’s only one person I’d like to maintain contact with, a couple that I won’t avoid but don’t have any strong desire to seek out, and a few that I genuinely prefer never to see again. That’s the beauty of working from home – it’s unlikely I’ll bump into anyone on the subway or the sidewalk.

This week was great and I work with pleasant, professional, well-organized, high-performing, high-integrity people, and I already feel useful. And that’s not terrible.

So…where were we?

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted. It wasn’t for lack of desire, but rather a dramatic shortfall in emotional and mental resources. In short, I’ve been going through it. Fortunately, there is a happy ending. Several, in fact. More happy endings than Return of the King. Spoiler alert.

A few weeks ago, out of the blue, my employment was put into jeopardy, and not in the nicest way. You may not believe there are nice ways to learn you might not have a job in the near future, but let me assure you – it could have gone better.

Simultaneously, my doctor thought I might have colon cancer. My routine colonoscopy uncovered something untoward and a biopsy was inconclusive. Worst case, I was looking at surgery, a week in the hospital, another week of bed rest, and oh, by the way, I might be losing my job and healthcare.

Fun this was not. Frozen in panic would be a good way to describe my state of mind. But then I did something I never do.

I called in the reserves.

I got my family and friends up to speed, so they could help me brainstorm and stay focused. Simply having them say “I got your back” was a tremendous help. I built a case for the worst-case scenario and decided I could live with it, if it came to that. And then I started working the phones.

Within 48 hours, I had my first interview at a consulting firm. That job didn’t work out, but within a week I had two more interviews lined up, both with companies on my A-list of places to work, one of which was founded by a VP and director from one of my former employers, and staffed with a number of former colleagues.

If I could choose my employer, rather than vice versa, the three places where I interviewed would easily make the top five. I’ve been watching openings at two of them for years. In the meantime, I asked colleagues to help me prep for interviews and kept working the phones, letting people know I was on the market. It was gratifying to learn how many people were excited about my availability and willing to suggest opportunities for me and recommend me to their firms.

So, where are we now?

Happy Ending preview: The temperature at work cooled quickly, but the bed had been shat and I still didn’t feel secure. The dice were already rolling and I decided to see how they came up.

Actual Happy Ending 1: After only three weeks on the market, I was offered a job at one of my top choices and yes, I accepted. I’ll be working with my former colleagues and couldn’t be happier. We circled around a job offer a couple of years ago, but I wasn’t sure it was the right fit at the time. I feel fortunate and blessed that this opportunity was here for me now in my hour of need, and apparently, it was a very close call between me and other strong candidates. I have skills and I’m a good guy, but this confluence of events was pure dumb luck, and I am so grateful. I’m not exaggerating when I say this has never happened to me before.  I hope I never need another of these Hallmark movie endings.

Happy Ending 2: My CT scan came back completely clear. My follow-up colonoscopy still found some questionable elements, but the second biopsy was more conclusive. No cancer, no pre-cancer. My doctor still wants to keep eyeballs on the clump of cells he didn’t like, but if anything arises, we should catch it at the pre-cancer stage, which sounds like a good time to catch it.

Happy Ending 3: My last day at my former job was last Friday. I start my new gig Monday. Fait accompli.

Happy Ending sidebar: Last week, as I wrapped things up at my former job, I started telling vendors and select clients that I was leaving. When I told one of our key tech vendors that Friday would be my last day, he audibly gasped, which was more response than I got from my team, tbh. Tech guy said he knew how much work it took to keep the trains running and that I made it look easy and seamless. He also said that no one on my side understood the level of detail and attention my job needs, and how much juggling I do, but he did, and he wanted to me to know that he recognized that. Other vendors and clients have made similar comments.

After a stressful few months followed by a shitty few weeks, I appreciated hearing that – from former colleagues, prospective employers, clients, and vendors. It buoyed my spirits when I needed it.

What’s next?

I also used the last two weeks to think about other areas of my life I’d like to reboot. This last month+ hasn’t been remotely pleasant – in fact, it’s been stressful, unhealthy, and exhausting – but I’m embracing it as a necessary kick in the pants. I’m starting a new chapter tomorrow, and looking at other new starts, as well – financial, creative, health and self-care, mental balance, and more. I’m looking forward to getting back to it.

I wish I hadn’t had to go through this upheaval, but as they say: never let a good crisis go to waste.

I’ll be posting more regularly in the weeks ahead. Onward!

Still not truly back in the creative groove. I really hope this work hangover passes soon.

Still basking in the conference afterglow, though. We heard through the grapevine that another major industry association is “terrified” of us, because the event went so well. They are [allegedly] concerned that their members won’t attend their events. That’s a bit of an overreaction, IMO. There’s plenty of room for multiple events during the year. But it does mean we were noticed in our industry sector. Our biggest hope for the conference was elevating our profile and it appears we hit a home run.

And that’s not terrible.

Up and not crying, as they say in distant lands.

I’ve been mostly absent from the blog these past few weeks. Instead, I’ve been hip deep in planning and prepping for our annual conference at work. This is always a huge lift and this year we had an in-person – rather than virtual – event. Two days, 70 speakers, four meals, somewhere around 800 attendees, and a small employee group that’s never run an in-person event. Fun times.

I haven’t written a damn thing in weeks. I banked a few blog posts that I haven’t published. I was going to back-date them, but you know what? Screw it. Other than my 2 horoscope posts, I’m taking my own advice and cutting myself a generous piece of slack. The world will continue turning if I let my blog streak lapse. It was fun while it lasted. Goals are good only as long as they serve the person who sets them.

A lot of good stuff came out of the last two months. We didn’t lose money and we didn’t kill each other, despite some frayed nerves and close calls. My boss liked the conference book I designed. The event sponsors and speakers – my major contribution to the event – are happy with the turnout and results. The general consensus from attendees was that “everyone in our industry was there” and “this was much better than [our competition’s] conference.”

And that’s not terrible. In fact, that’s bad-ass.