Another Year, Another Book

I began writing in 2023 when I discovered the Bukowski poem that inspired me to try writing poetry myself. Since then, I wrote a lot. However, I never knew what to do with the hundreds of pieces scattered around my digital world. I decided it was finally time to put together a collection: Under Starless Skies. This is something I avoided for a long time because of the nature of my work. I most often write poems when I need to express something; and such strong feelings usually do not come from light places. Thus, most of my pieces have darker tones.

When I look back at what I’ve written, I often feel a sense of shame, maybe embarrassment: How could I let anyone see the dark things I wrote? I suppose worse than that is the idea of, How can I let anyone see anything vulnerable of mine? The very first piece leads with such ideas, I Dreamt of Me:

I dreamt a dream that I was me

For all my thoughts and memories, I was myself

I knew love

I was happy

I was me

And when I woke I knew not who I was

For all my thoughts and memories were of a dream

I know not love

I am not happy

So who does that make me?

The collection is arranged in chronological order. When I first asked myself how I would arrange it, my instinct was to collect it all into one document and see from there. As I read my pieces, chronologically, I realized that an interesting perspective naturally emerges: the development of my style, my thoughts, my ideas, and who I am over time. So I kept that order. The first piece, shared above, is the first poem I ever wrote, written on the 4th of February, 2023.

Seeing the evolution of my voice made me feel comfortable to share everything. Of course, if you follow any of my work, you know what I went through over the past few years. My struggles are part of my story — nothing to fear being seen. In a month or two, the book will go out into the world, and I greatly look forward to holding a copy in my hand.

Reading my poetry over and over again, day after day, has been quite exhausting. Given its nature, also quite depressing. I chose to “withdraw” for the week to get this book done. Tomorrow, I will rewrite the introduction, then it’s ready to send off. I will then hold the proof copy in my hands on September 8 (or the final version, with luck). A little more work, then I’m free to return to the land of the living. Though I was also extremely sick which did not help.

This year has been another adventure, but I’m happy to say that the fragments are coming together. I did a photoshoot for a good friend and her family over the weekend, the first one in a while, and the creative spirit is finally flowing through me again. My friend being who I started my art project with, and we also have a great many plans laid out for the future.

Task by task, I’m working on getting myself back in order. I have not been sleeping, however. Once more, being sick didn’t help, but my mind starts racing as soon as I go to bed. One situation is responsible for most of that — somewhere I never imagined finding myself again. I wrote this the first time I was here:

What does it matter? — when what is frozen in the night turns to ashes in the day? When at last I realize that all that was in need be done was to take but a step in the direction of the face that met mine with a smile? — each and every day in the light of the sun. Who greeted my calls with song? — begging harmony I dared not answer out of tune. What does it matter? — when my first step is taken in the ash? When there is nothing to desire in the end.

I won’t point to the source of that quote, but it can be found somewhere on my website. It’s also in the new book. Anyway, the thoughts involve ideas about life and the world and my place within: the question of how to live a life. What do I want? Who do I want to be? I can speak one sentence and change my life. Do I want to speak it? How can I figure out whether I do or not? Why can’t I figure that out? So wanders my mind.

What I can answer is that I want to write. I’m slowly working to restart all the groups that ceased. First will be the writing group. I also have a plan to restart my poetry open mics. Furthermore, I’m planning a release event for Under Starless Skies once I have copies in October. Speaking of, the name of the book comes from common tropes in my writing. The name should fit well after reading.

It should be no surprise that I’m writing this well into a sleepless night, and my thoughts are thus disordered. The last thing I want to say is on getting things done: One step. That’s all it takes. One step, no matter how small, will accomplish anything as long as you are consistent. When struggling to get something done, do the absolute minimum that you know you will do. If I can manage to follow my own advice, I will hopefully have my fourth book written this year. I’ve been planning it for a very long time, but I have not been writing. I’ve been too scared of not writing it “good enough.”

I wrote before about collecting experiences. The next book I want to write will be the culmination of that process: creating a world in which I express those experiences. I want to express the world as I see it, everything that is wrong with it, the reasons why, and the wants and wishes to fix it. But expressed through pure experience, no preaching or philosophizing. It’s a grand task, hence why I never started. All this time, I have used short stories as an “excuse.” It’s time for a novel. Though I do have a growing collection of short stories scattered about…