01
Lying in bed, it’s not that I don’t feel tired, but there’s this vacuum where tiredness swirls into nothing. Strange. Getting out of bed in the mornings is like dragging myself out of a coma. Throughout the day, there’ll be occasional lapses where I feel I could fall asleep regardless of what I’m doing – working at the computer, eating lunch, or sitting in front of the television. But once I’m in bed, that tiredness, that need for sleep, evaporates. Lots of things flit through my mind. My writing. Stuff to do at work. Shit I should’ve said in arguments I’ve had. Random images. Projections of what I want for…
Then and Now
My book did the rounds of family (well, my brother, and a handful of cousins). One cousin gave it to his fantasy-loving friend who declared it one of the best fantasy books he’d ever read. I don’t know if he was humouring my cousin, if he was clueless, or if the praise was genuine (most writers I know often doubt praise), but it encouraged me to get back into writing. The other reason was I was just empty without it. And purposeless. After terrifying anxiety, the dread I might be losing my mind (thanks, Dr. Fuckwit), and a general feeling of inadequacy, the world was too scary to confront. But…