So, I’m hardly ever posting here anymore because life is the worst. If you like my silly internet bullshit, you can find me at:
underlockeandkey.tumblr.com (all purpose FUNblr. Just my regular, non-writing tumblr)
fuckyeahasongoficeandfire.tumblr.com (my ASOIAF/Game of Thrones appreciation blog. Yes, imma geek)
fychristymack.tumblr.com (this is just a blog of disgusting porn GIFs of the same hot girl over and over. I advise caution.)
Love you guys, and kittens,
Here is a photo of me showing George RR Martin the tattoo I have of words he wrote. He was surprised and flattered and spoke to me about its context. Life is pretty ace right now.
This happened earlier.
This is my friend Mitch proposing to his girlfriend, Melissa. Mitch owns a comic book store. Those two black-framed comics on the wall in the background is a commission Mitch had done that tells the story of how he and Melissa met, and ends with him proposing to her in an art gallery. I’m a hopeless romantic, and I’m not ashamed to admit that this warms my heart so much. Oh, and she said yes. 💜❤️️💜
Imagine you’re in an elevator.
You’re going to level 4, and they’re going to level 3.
You have that long to convince the other person to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on you.
And this happens to them every day.
That’s why I’m stressed.
Trying very hard not to go to bed depressed (again).
Had a really good chat with Oli tonight post-Breaking Bad. It was great. Been a long time since anyone has wanted to talk to me about how I’ve been feeling, etc.
I ran into Jay Kristoff at Games Lab yesterday. I managed to crow-bar my way into conversation with him because I wasn’t sure if he’d remember me from twitter or supanova or whatever.
It was really good. He gave me some great positive reinforcement. But right now I’ve no time to use it because I’ve got to go to bed soon to get up and work that fucking job that I pretty much hate entirely, now.
It’s been draining me so much. I’ve had hardly any energy left lately to concentrate on my work. My real work, I mean. Concentration at my ‘job’ is always minimal. Pretty much enough to get by, but it still drains me because expectations are nasty.
I can’t remember the last time I sat here and just wrote something for a good hour or so. I’ve nearly forgotten that magical feeling I get after writing something I’m happy with, and feeling like I’m at least on my way to acheiving something.
Happiness. That feeling is called happiness.
(I’ve been looking at those people and they make me sick and I feel -unnaturally and unfairly- that being associated with them by any degree is bringing me down.)
I don’t know. Maybe I should write that series of peices on muses that I was going to write? Throw a bunch of flattery at Adele and Cat and Eleanor.
Aspects of them live and grow in my head and they’re way too different to their earthly counterparts now that I probably wouldn’t recognise them.
I can’t be happy with life at the moment.
It’s why I related so much to Walter through the entire series. It made him feel alive, and fuck any other cunt who tried to take that away. You don’t get to do that.
Stop being so selfish.
I should have spent this time forwarding some query letters or working on some chapters or something productive. This complaining on the internet thing is reaching the end of it’s tether.
Love and Kittens,
I can’t hold on today.
It’s been a while since I posted. Tumblr is beginning to feel like that old diary I keep that’s gathering dust in my top drawer. I don’t feel guilty for forgetting it, anymore.
I’m off sick today, and I wish I could have gone to work if only to distact me from everything.
My insides are tense around my heart, and I don’t know what will relax it. Probably nothing, I expect.
All I’ve dedicated my life and energy to is writing. And I’ve written a manuscript over seven years and spent hundreds of dollars on assessments and hundred and hundreds of hours drafting and editing and re-drafting.
There is nothing else that I’m even close to being good at. Nothing else I want to be good at. I want to do this with my whole life. I have dreams, and those dreams might kill me one day because they’ll never come true.
And now is occurs to me that if I don’t get a positive reply from an agent, It’ll all be for naught. ‘Whelp, you tried! Back to the drawing board!’
I’ve received three rejection letters; ‘-seems interesting, but isn’t right for me,’ ‘-very intruguing, but I can’t get behind it,’ ‘-Not my area of expertise, but I’m sure you’ll get attention from another agent.’
People I’ve told about it say that these ‘rejections’ are not all negative. Nobody is telling me the work is straight-up crap. Which is true. But all I can play in my mind is the rejections I received from girls:
'-seem lik a nice guy, but you're not my type,' '-very interesting person, but we'd be better as friends,' '-I don't think it would work, but I'm sure you'll get a girlfriend soon!'
Which brings me to the other reason I’m stressed and depressed and can’t handle anything.
My gorgeous, beuaitufl, adorable, loveable Kayla.
It’s a rare thing when two people like each other in the same way. And I adore her being around, and I love the cute faces she makes and the things she says. I love that she loves cats and certain bands and I love that she likes some of the same trashy movies I like and I just want to hold her and keep her safe and I want her to be happy all the time, regardless of whether or not she’s around me.
And I’m so scared of losing her right now, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.
If writing is going nowhere, and I lose this wonderful yougn woman, I seriously don’t think I have much to live for at all.
Love and Kittens,
CASUAL ENCOUNTERS, a new series of digital shorts by Peccadillo Press, is now available on Amazon!
Telling tales of spontaneous, sexy fun, Peccadillo authors Wendy Doer, Paul Hellion, Ronnie Kinski and A.J. Thewlis have put out five semi-autobiographical stories across two volumes of heaty encounters made by adventurous men and women looking for no-frills thrills with zero commitment!
In CASUAL ENCOUNTERS 1, prolific erotic author Wendy Doer brings her hottest scenarios to the fray with two short stories “Just A Second, I Promise” and “Tall Dark and Handsome”, both tales of anonymous sex in innocuous locations to keep you warm and distracted…
In CASUAL ENCOUNTERS 2, steamy erotic authors Paul Hellion, Ronnie Kinski and A.J. Thewlis write a story apiece with “2AM Tension”, “Anna, From Maastricht” and “6 Long Years” — tales of longing and old friendships blossoming into raunchy sex…
Now available on all good digital marketplaces:
Mmm, steamy new reads just for you.
One of them even has a previously-unpublished short story by me (Casual Encounters 2’s “2AM Tension”!
I’ve known Paul for seven years now. He’s a fantastic writer, and an even better erotic fiction writer.
Seriously, people. Pick up a copy of this.
So Jo played very pleasantly played into my vanity and suggested I do ANOTHER Les Miserables cover. Luckily, I’ve been singing since I got home and didn’t have to excercise to bash this shit out.
Sorry, Jo. You’re a bad influence.
I’m in a mood and I just need to sing to get stuff out of me. I chose this song because it’s been stuck in my head, has a fairly brutal theme, and let me belt out a few different accents and voices. Meh.
It’s rare that I idiolise words that came from the mouth of someone other than my proginators, but at a confference for the dumb job I was working a few years ago, this guy gave a lecture.
Most of the other plebs were confused as to why his words didn’t directly corrolate to our job, but there were a few of us who understood.
He told us that when he was thirteen, he got his report card from school. His Mother noticed that he was doing poorly in science, and remarked; ‘Oh, you’re failing science class. We need to get you a tutor.’
But his Father said; ‘you’re doing really well in sport. Would you like to do some more sport after school?’
So, he started wagging his science classes to go and play golf. He failed science, and went on to become a professional golfer.
He said that his point was fairly simple: You can’t acheive everything. There are things you’re not going to be good at. There are things you’ll never be good at, no matter how hard you try. There are things that you will fail at. And you should fail those things. Fail spectacularly.
I know, now, that there are things you’ll excel at, and those are the things you should invest your energy in. Your energy is a very valuble and finite resource. Why waste it on trying to become better at something you’re not good at, and never will be? Why not become even better at the things you can do.
I’m sure this is a very pessimistic view of life. But it’s one I like.
I’m not a glass half-full or a glass half-empty guy. I’m the guy who wants to know what happened to half his drink.
Love and Kittens,
'If you don't know by now how much I love you, I've clearly done something wrong.'
Beetles. Braids. Bird-houses and burns.
'I can't tell if you push me away because you don't understand-'
Ocean lanes and suds and salt-shakers filled with skin.
'-or because you're frightened of my affection.'
Attics and wooden doors with gold knobs and blotted out windows and dangling yellowed light-bulbs.
'It cuts like a razor.'
Pinned to the bed, blades and teeth, gleaming white, smiling, deviant glee.
'And I'll drink the blood.'
Dropping falling. Pine box. Gravedirt. Regret. Reform. Religion.
'All or Nothing.'