Hi Y’all,
It’s a holiday and I hope you’re all taking the day off and enjoying yourselves. I’m going to keep it brief this week. I just wrapped up my Kickstarter, the book is back from the printers, and soon I will mail out all of the pre-orders.
This week I want to heap gratitude upon you all. To those of you who ordered the book—THANK YOU. To all of you who tune in here every week—THANK YOU. I have been sharing my writing for fifty years now! Hard to wrap my head around.
This recent book is, easily, my favorite. There’s a reason for that. All of my books have come with their own rewards. This one feels like The Book I Wanted to Write Since I Was Ten Years Old. I’m speaking here of the process more than the contents, although I am pleased with the contents.
I have been a voracious reader since I was very little. Books were my magical place to escape. In hindsight, I see how books saved me. I was, courtesy of my difficult childhood experiences, perpetually stressed out and in fear. Books were safe places I could go to get away from the fear and enter into other stories, go all sorts of places, spend time with other people—real and fictional.
Surely it was the magic I felt while reading that inspired me to want to write my own books. I started my first book when I was ten. It was about a talking saxophone named Max. I never finished it, but this early attempt at authorship primed the pump.
As I was preparing this latest book for publication—designing the cover and insides, working with the printer, making a plan—I thought about ten-year-old me and my writing aspirations. I knew nothing of how publication worked. I certainly didn’t know about bestsellers, agents, marketing, or publishers. I simply wanted to create a story and see it between the covers, and see my name on the front cover.
I don’t regret past publishing experiences. But I do see how, very often, due to the nature of the beast of traditional publishing, I got sidetracked. I worried about finding a publisher. I worried about moving units. I dealt with a lot of rejection, as this definitely is a big part of the nature of the beast. I aspired toward (great) financial gain. (That part never happened.)
This time around, as I moved toward completion of the final draft, I knew exactly how I wanted things to go. I wanted this work to be that long ago dreamed of book, a book that was about process and clever storytelling. I had zero motivation to try to convince anyone in the traditional publishing world that it was worth taking on. Dispensing with the anxiety-inducing parts of production allowed me to focus instead on the satisfaction of seeing a project through.
I’m really glad it’s September now. September always conjures back-to-school memories for me. I always loved school, loved learning, loved the abundance of positive feedback I received from so many teachers. I’m stepping into my 60th September on the planet with the enthusiasm of a kindergartner on Day One, excited to see what school is all about. This enthusiasm, I’m certain, feels extra big this year. Part of that is due to having completed the book: Look! I did it! I did it! and I wonder what else I can do!
Another part of my current enthusiasm was forged by August’s messy mental challenges. It took me weeks to recover from The Big Triggering that took me down. Though my mind felt as horrible as it always does when trauma arrives unbidden to kick me in the teeth, I also understood I had many tools at my disposal to facilitate healing. Three cheers for decades of therapy and self-help and loving friends who have worked so hard to show me they are not going anywhere, no matter how messy shit gets in my head.
One of my favorite tools is learning. When I was deep in emotional doo-doo last month, I threw myself into an online Shakespeare course. I freaking love Shakespeare but it had been a long time since I studied his life and work. It was so helpful to spend a week or so hurling myself into these studies. And it reminded me that I always do better when I am applying myself to learning.
So I am dedicating this month to learning some new skills and revisiting some of the things I picked up during lockdown to get me through—painting, silversmithing, ceramics. I’m going to up my photography game. And just the other day I taught myself how to carve rubber stamps, which I’m pretty sure is going to consume my attention for a good stretch.
Though I do sometimes wince at what can feel like the hokey nature of “gratitude journals,” there’s a lot of evidence (at least anecdotal) that this, too, can help one stay in a more positive space. So I’m doing a variation of this, too, making a little book with words and pictures in it, riffing on an assignment my first grade teacher gave me way back in 1970.
To paraphrase Robert Earl Keen, it really does feel so good to be feeling good again. It’s annoying as fuck knowing that eventually I’ll get triggered again and my mind will go black and it will be a total slog getting through it. But I’m glad to be on steady footing again. Getting to share my stories here helps so much with that. Really, I can’t thank y’all enough.
How about y’all? Do you have happy back-to-school memories? Did you hate telling summer goodbye as a kid? What are you working on?
NOTES:
If you happen to be reading this before 4 pm on Monday Sept 2nd, there are actually a few hours left in my Kickstarter Campaign. If you want to order a book, you can hustle over there and do that now. Here is a link.
Speaking of Back to School, tomorrow, Tuesday September 30th, my FREE writing workshops at the Hampton Branch Library start back up again. ALL levels are welcome, including super beginner. Space is limited and we do ask that you register.
This substack is free but if you can swing a $5 per month subscription please consider it. Really helps me a lot to keep the ranch rolling, the animals fed, and my own belly full. Another way to help is to share this with folks you think might dig it.
Thank you all so much for being here. It’s so very good to have you.
Love, Spike