Tag Archives: writer

I’m Moving: Or, Joan Didion, You Bitch.

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Everyone, I have horrific, tragic, deviating news!

I’m….  I’m…  (chokes up).

I’m….MOVING! 

(Breaks down into tears) 

Oh, it’s just truly the worst thing that has ever happened in the course of human history. My glorious apartment in the heart of the Upper West Side will be gone. How will I even go on?  WHY SHOULD I EVEN CONTINUE LIVING????

And do you know where I’m moving to? Oh, lord, I can’t. I literally.  just.  can’t.

I can’t even tell you! No! It’s too difficult!

Ok. Deep breath, you can do this… Just say it quick, so it’s out in the world.

I’m moving too… The Upper East Side! 

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I don’t think you understand.  Upper West Side people just aren’t like Upper East Side people.  We’re a different breed.  I feel like a traitor. I’m going to live on the other side of Central Park.

Upper East Side people are just petty and emotionless. Joan Didion, my absolute least favorite NYC author lives on the Upper East Side.  Gross! 

I mean, did you ever read ‘Goodbye To All That’?

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In the essay, all Joan Didion does is bitch about things and makes mountains out of molehills. She talks about her time in New York City like as if it’s life and death.

That’s the kind of person who lives on the Upper East Side… people who are overdramatic drama queens!

Oh my God, I can’t even believe this. Will I need a passport to visit the Upper West Side now?  Is the Upper East Side even part of Manhattan???? I may as well just move to New jersey at this point. Or Wyoming. It’s all the same.

Ugh. I can’t even fathom living around all those delusional, self-obsessed, melodramatic people of the Upper East Side. I should just drink poison like in Romeo & Juliet. That’ll show em.

Fucking drama queens.

 

Please, pray for me in these trying days to come, I’ll need them…

~ Dark Horse

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Oh, My Dear Editor Friend…You Have F***** With The Wrong Bitch.

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Oh, Mr. Journal Editor from the workshop today…. Oh, oh, oh, you poor, poor thing.

To anyone out there who doesn’t live in my head and needs context for what’s going on – Today in my writing workshop an editor from a literary journal came by. I read to him the first few pages of an essay I’m working on about my time hustling in LA.

I was told “While I would probably continue on past the second page, It sounds like anyone could have written it.”

Anyone?

A true story about running away and having sex for money to avoid homelessness can simply be written by anyone?????

ANYWAYS... So, I contacted my editor today who has been helping me with this story. I think it’s great. And I think it isn’t written in a normal way at all. In fact, one of the critiques I regularly receive about my writing is that it isn’t normal enough. I’m told I’m too causal, I cuss too much, It’s “like I’m having a conversation with someone.” (which, to me, is an honor, because that’s how I want to write.)

So, I just revised the essay a little bit. I streamlined that shit so fuckin hard that NOBODY can say it isn’t worthy of publication. It’s funny, it’s sad, it’s scary, it’s real, it’s perfect.

 

So, now…

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It’s time to get revenge on that stupid journal editor. 

 

I’m going to get that published. This will happen. Vengeance will be mine. A flame has been lit inside me. A flame you don’t want to fuck with.

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I’m going to get this essay published because I know it’s good. I’ve worked hard on it. It’s worthy of being read. Let’s do this. 

~ The Dark Horse

Anxiety, My Dear Friend.

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So, as I’ve stated before, I’m living in New York City and have somehow stumbled into the beginnings of a writing career…Something I never thought would happen.

It’s sort of like the beginning to every cheesy chick flick ever.

For real…

Chick Flicks that I know of where the lead character is a writer/works for a magazine: 13 Going on 30, The Devil Wears Prada, You’ve Got Mail, Ugly Betty, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Sex and the City, Morning Glory….. The list goes on.  Anyways, moving on….

The point is, things are…going well.  People may even think I have talent. A recent article I wrote got picked up by Newsweek, The Miami Herald, Philly Magazine, Houston Chronicle, Yahoo News, MSN, Fox News, and tons of local CBS and FOX stations…it even aired on the news, like, on TV! 

On top of that, I was sent on assignment to Mexico early this month, and have a trip to London in June.

IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING? 

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If you need some context as to how crazy this is, go back and read my posts from 2013, 2014, 2015, even 2016! I was agoraphobic. I was working in retail. I felt like the ugliest failure that ever existed. I always felt like I had talent. But I also felt like nobody would ever want to hear my voice.

I felt that I was an eternal failure destined to be the outcast until I died.

Ok look…I’m still the outcast and probably always will be. BUT, I’m an outcast who is becoming successful.  And that’s worth something, right? 

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But, despite the growing success, I still feel anxious. And I’m starting to understand that the feelings of anxiety may never go away. I still have moments where I go “I really hope they like this article, cuz I don’t want to lose my job” or “I wonder if I’m going to lose my job someday because of the way writing careers are going…”

But, such is life in this industry.

Triumph normally requires risk. If I wanted career security, there are a lot of boring jobs I could have. I could go back to working for a phone company…cuz that was fun….(rolls eyes so hard they hurt)

 

But with accepting my anxiety, it also seems to help. Whereas I used to be convinced my life was falling apart, now I have moments where I get anxious and I feel the dread and fear that comes along with it. Then, I take a breath and remind myself that I’ve already been through hell. I’ve already felt what it’s like to have nothing. I’ve already been in a situation where I was having sex for money. I’ve already been completely alone.

I’ve already lived the life that I fear I’ll have to live if everything falls apart.

So what am I fearing?  I survived it once, I could do it again.


 

But I don’t think I’ll have to.

I have a feeling…

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A good feeling.

A feeling that things are working out. I think maybe it’s a mixture of hope and confidence…two things I’ve lacked in the past. The more stuff I get published, the more people want my writing, and the more people want my writing, the more secure I feel in my writing, which makes my writing better, which makes more people want it, which…

you get what I’m saying. It’s a positive feedback loop. 

 

So, I guess the point is this – I felt that I was a failure FOR YEARS.

Again, go ahead and read this blog if you don’t believe me. I spent way too much time hating myself. I spent way too much time believing others that I was worthless. I spent too much of my life not living my life.

And while I still feel anxious at times, I’m not letting it control me. Anxiety is a fucking joke – it’s a cunt that will try everything it can to fuck you over. Don’t listen to that bitch.

If you need help because you’re feeling depressed, anxious, have PTSD, or any other issue – call your local lifeline (here is a list of all the crisis lines around the world)

And whatever you do.  Don’t give up. You’re better than that.

Rock this shit out y’all! 

nick

(Who is this? Is this Nickleback or something?  Hoobastank perhaps? Good lord…)

 

~ The Dark Horse

(No this wasn’t proofread. #SozBro!)

 

 

 

I’m Getting Published!

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So, I received an email from a literary magazine the other day, and it seems that the Dark Horse is finally about to get published! (Confetti falls from the ceiling and there’s much fanfare throughout the entire human population… Or… well, really, I called my mom and she was proud of me. But it feels like fanfare I say!)

 

Anyhoo, that’s all beside the point. The point which is this: I have been working my ass off, and it’s finally started paying off!

If I were to flashback to 2 years ago, when I first started my masters program in writing and literature, with nothing on my resume besides retail. Or to 5 years ago, when I was stuck in my Melbourne apartment, agoraphobic, and miserable. Or if I flash-backed to 6 years ago, when I arrived back to Ohio after undergrad, feeling like a complete failure because I didn’t make anything of myself in LA. I never would have thought that any of this would ever be possible.

 

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I’ve spent most of my twenties feeling like a failure. Feeling like life wasn’t wroth living. Feeling like I would never ever make anything of myself. The spark of hope was the faintest flicker, off in the distance of some cold dark foggy night.

Writing is what got me through it all. I’ve journaled since I was 7. And I started this blog in 2013, back when my mental health was so poor that I couldn’t even leave my bedroom without feeling weak. Writing. Venting. Creating. It was what kept me going.

 

 

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When I was a kid growing up in Ohio, I knew I wanted to tell stories. I was the lone gay kid lost in a sea of uneducated, hateful trash. Movies and books were the only things that ever gave me inspiration and showed me that life could be worth living. I always knew I wanted to give that to other people.

It wasn’t until recently that I figured out it would be my story I’d be telling. The stories of growing up in Ohio. Of being a lonely sex addict in Los Angeles. Of suffering from depression and anxiety. Of collapsing all over Australia. But most importantly, of never giving up. 

I’m so excited to see the the future has in store.  Did you hear that? I’m excited for my future. That is a very recent feeling in my life. I’m looking forward to what’s next. I’m excited to see how the publication process works. I’m excited to see what people think of my writing. I’m excited to write more! And above all, I’m excited to have an adventure. Because isn’t that what life should be about?

 

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Rock on bitches, rock on!

 

~ The Dark Horse