It's okay if you don't get it

There’s a big difference between critique, criticism and judgement.

These three barriers have always played a factor in my continuing struggle to express myself, or even share my art, writing and design. In art school, I was taught that critiquing was a part of the process. Over twenty years in the graphic design industry has helped build a thick skin, but thickness can only run so deep. A thick skin has helped in dealing with criticism and judgement, but again, it still plays a factor in my ability to express and share.

Critique in the creative field is useful information. While I can’t help but take some of it seriously, I understand that in most cases, its not personal. I learned early in college that critiquing is meant to make the project better. I’ve learned to accept critiquing as part of the process, and in most cases I seek it out in many stages of a project. I feel that type of feedback contributes to a better creative outcome.

There is such a thing as ‘useless critiquing’ which I’ve also learned to detect over the years. This is something that just comes with experience. At the same time, I’ve learned to critique other’s work. I do my best to give useful information that will help the artist. It’s never about the person.

Criticism is where we get into dicey territory. The difference between useful critique and criticism can sometimes be blurry. Here is where it starts to get personal, because criticism usually has a negative tone. Most people who dish out criticism are not trained artists. That’s not to say that a trained artist can’t criticize. This is where I feel the line is blurry. I’ve dealt with criticism as a designer as well, and I’ve learned to detect the difference between the two. That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Criticism by others has hindered a lot of my personal creative output. I feel like criticism is the unfiltered version of critique, because a lot of initial emotions are expressed when someone is critical of a piece of art. They make that opinion known. Part of my personal barrier in this instance is my own brain telling me that someone will not like this piece of art, design or writing. While I feel like this is different from the stabbing knife of the self-critic, I feel they work together to stab at my love and enthusiasm of the piece of creative output I’m trying to share.

Judgement is criticism’s partner in crime. I understand the dictionary definition of judgement does not cover this. I’ve been in many situations where I’ve seen people judge others for their creative output. This is the worst type of criticism because it’s often harsh and useless. They make fun of the artist or person who dared to share a piece of art, writing, a song, a baked good, or anything that was made by hand, with love and curiosity. There is a special type of sadness involved in this, because often the people who put these judgements into the world are people who don’t make anything. They will never pick up a brush or an instrument. They don’t know how to appreciate anything. All they know how to do is point, laugh, and try to take the artist down.

I’ve personally experienced this many times in my life. I feel like I’ve heard it enough that it seeps into the part of my brain that helps build that barrier. It’s an emotional pain that lingers and doesn’t let go. It helps the inner-critic stab at the meat of my enthusiasm and love of art and writing. Judgement offers a chance to easily let go my desire to express. It takes over and hinders my ability to create. It cascades into a type of shame that being vulnerable is a sin.

The following is the third installment in a trilogy of uselessness. Continue reading at your own risk.

What I can’t get over in my two previous posts is how I’m missing the mark regarding two authors I admire. This is the creative shortstop I’ve referred to in other posts as well. It’s like being trapped in a giant wet paper bag, and you can’t punch through or climb your way out. In any case, I’ll attempt to do it properly, AGAIN.

Third time’s a charm, I suppose.

Early in my science fiction writing aspirations, circa 2008, I had several copies of works by Harlan Ellison. In fact, it was reading Harlan Ellison’s I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream that made me want to write science fiction. From that harsh opening line, to the hell the characters go through, to the unbelievable conclusion, I was hooked, mortified, stunned, and most of all inspired. I finished that short story while sitting in a cafe and though to myself, “I can do this. I can write short science fiction stories that make this same type of impact.”

Late in 2010, I was doubting my future as a writer. I had read a lot of old school science fiction over the past year, and my writing output was not anything to smile at. I was set to go on vacation, and I decided I would put it out of my mind while in Hawaii, and come back and decide if I wanted to keep trying. On my first day in the rental home, I found a copy of Variable Star by Spider Robinson and Robert A. Heinlein. Spider I knew from a science fiction podcast that regularly mentioned him, and I had read his first Callahan books. I had also read a few short stories by Heinlein, and understood how important he was to the science fiction world. I was unaware of the existence of Variable Star. I started reading it… and I could not put it down. I finished it while I was on vacation. I took this as a sign, approved by Mr. Robinson and Mr. Heinlein: stick with the writing.

Being an aspiring writer, I tried my hardest to find GOOD books on the craft of writing. While Harlan and Spider never wrote definitive books on writing, I’ve run into many small pockets of writerly wisdom by both writers. One piece of advice that I read from Harlan was something along the lines of: read his work, all of the lessons are already there. I spent time picking his work apart, and tried to understand how it all works. Reading a piece of Harlan’s fiction is like preparing yourself for a ride on a rollercoaster. In contrast, Spider’s stories were a different breed. What fascinated me the most was how much they put themselves into their work to make it unique and impactful, all while telling a story. Someday, I want to be able to do the same thing.

Harlan Ellison and Spider Robinson are well liked in the science fiction community. There’s something to be said about Harlan in particular; he had a lot of critics and people who didn’t like him. He had an energy about him that can make him unlikable to some. I admired that about him, because he wasn’t afraid to be loud about political issues, the state of the world, and useless idiots. He was also fiercely supportive of other writers whether or not they were established. As a fan, I think that’s what I liked about him the most.

As for Spider, while he has his critics on his writing (and I know how he feels about critics), he seems to be universally well loved. I’ve seen some great YouTube videos of Spider at conventions, and I’ve listened to many podcasts of fans and writers talking about Spider, and how much he’s loved. As a person, he seems to be a joy to talk to. Watch any YouTube video of Spider, and you will see first hand how big of a heart he has. A lot of his work resonated with people who have gone through a lot of hardship in their lives. I can only imagine how difficult Spider’s life has been over the past decade and a half. Understandably, his own hardships have put a halt to his creative output. To be honest, he’s put so much empathy and creativity into the world that there will always be a way to find a connection to him.

I’d like to end this with one of his most famous and poetic quotes:

Warning: No useful information here. Read at your own risk.

Yesterday’s post about Spider Robinson and Harlan Ellison was a bit of a letdown for me. As far as admiring some of my writing heroes goes, I did not hit the mark. It was more of a weak, brief summary of why I liked those two particular writers. It was also an excuse to keep up with a daily writing task, even though I really didn’t have anything of substance to write about.

This is the second day of feeling that way. I don’t feel like I’ve run out of gas, but I do feel like I’m a bit stuck with writing useful content without being repetitive.

So, this will be a short post because I spent my allotted writing time to actually write fiction. The purpose of blogging more was to shake off the cobwebs of nearly a year of not writing, so I could ease my way into writing fiction as well as sharpen my teeth in writing freeform essays.

It didn’t go so well. As it turns out, I have a lot more cobwebs in the fiction section of my brain. As far as first drafts go, this was a mess. Still, I wrote fiction, and it felt good.

This is a baby step that I’ve been waiting for. I didn’t wake up this morning expecting to write fiction, but here I am.

What I write today will be useless to anyone but me. Feel free to stop reading from this point forward.

I’m stuck today on what to write about. This happened before, and I wrote about being stuck, and why.

The reason I’m stuck is because I’m unfocused, and my mind has been wandering ever since work ended. Work was very busy and a lot went on today with deadlines and my towering workload. This is the first time I got to settle down and think. I’m stuck on what to write about, though.

For some strange reason I started thinking about Spider Robinson and Harlan Ellison. Two of my favorite science fiction writers who are prolific and very outspoken. Harlan had a wit and tounge sharper than a Hattori Hanzo sword and was not afraid to stir things up. This was in contrast to Spider’s old folk singer hippie vibe. He’s probably the nicest man in the world.

Both writers crafted essays on life, politics, and everything in between. They also created fiction that struck a nerve. I own a good amount of both men’s works, and in my early days of “aspiring” to be a science fiction writer, I fell in love with the essay as a way to express myself. I can’t imagine what either of them would do if blogging existed back in the heyday of science fiction. When you think about it, Harlan was around when blogging became more mainstream. He wasn’t one for technology, but he started a YouTube channel. Spider took advantage of podcasting for a while.

I always wondered what it would be like to learn the craft of writing from Harlan and Spider. Under Harlan, I bet I would probably cry every day, yet I’d stay tough, just to prove that I can persevere. Under Spider, I imagine a kinder hand, but the same honest critique of my work.

Harlan passed five years ago. He left behind a vast collection of books and essays to learn from. As for Spider, I know things haven’t been the same over the last decade and a half, and that’s very understandable. I don’t know if Spider has ever done any teaching or written a book on writing craft, but if he did, I’d buy it in a heart beat. My only guess is that he’d endorse Ben Bova’s book on the craft of writing. I’m willing to bet Harlan would endorse Ben’s book as well, as I believe they were all friends.

I’ve always admired people who were able to express themselves. People such as George Carlin, Jon Stewart, Patton Oswalt are examples, but also writers and artists such as James Victore, Chuck Wendig and John Scalzi also come to mind. Their ability to either be authentic, or express an unfiltered opinion seems to come very easily. Of course, everyone on this list is either a professional comedian or writer, with years of experience and razor-sharp craftsmanship.

My struggle to express myself comes from bad childhood experiences. It’s a fear that I haven’t been able to get over. Yet, I chose to be in the creative field, and I have over twenty years of experience in graphic design. I’d like to think that experience would transfer in some way to other creative fields, because the fear of expressing myself certainly does.

I’ve read several books on this subject, and the consensus is that you simply have to get over yourself. You are your biggest fear. Cool. It’s settled, then. What’s frustrating is that’s probably the right and only answer.

This is different than a fear of failure or circumstance. It’s DIY, locally sourced, self-grown fear. If fear is the mind-killer, then nearly every day is a murder scene.

In a nutshell, I hold back a lot: my emotions, my opinions, my willingness to put myself in the forefront. It’s because I’m afraid of the response. I fear harsh judgement, harmful reaction, and I can’t help but think about those bad times as a kid.

Today marks the seventh day that I’ve sat down to purposely write.

So far, I’ve learned the following: working on your writing, no matter how little or how much, as long as you are consistent, is key to improving. It really does feel like a fitness routine. I’m also working out every day, and over time, I’ve felt my muscles change. I feel like I’m gaining muscle in my writing.

It’s not easy. My challenge is to write something useful to myself (but also to others). I’m trying real hard to NOT be perfect. My other goal is to produce something that is interesting. The jury is out on that, but at least I’m putting in the effort.

I’ve had to force myself to sit down and write ever day, even when I really, truly did not want to. My girlfriend gets up early on most mornings to work with a personal trainer. I know she doesn’t want to, but she does it, because she’s determined and she has goals. I also have goals with my writing, and it won’t get done by deciding NOT to do it.

I’d like to make a slight counterpoint to that last paragraph: some writing advice I’ve read stated that you have to write every day to improve. I’ve also read advice that states you don’t have to. I’m only writing about what has worked for me, and I’m not advocating for either school of thought. I’ve done both over the years, and so far, writing every day has helped me. I may miss a day here and there in the foreseeable future, but that’s life. The key is to shrug it off and keep the momentum.

Another thing I’ve learned is the best feeling is finishing the work. This is true for all of my art projects, but I definitely feel it in my writing. It’s a payoff that creates a feeling of satisfaction. It may not be perfect, but it’s done. One of my favorite artists James Victore says, “Done is better than perfect.”

One last thing I’ve learned: I want to do more. I may be finished with this post, but I want to write more. It’s always on my mind, and as messy, and difficult, and anxiety-driven this task may be, I’m glad I started again.

Creativity is work. Any endeavor in which you use your brain to help make something with substance is work. Writing, painting, music, stand-up comedy, these are all things that take energy and effort to make.

Ideas are a dime a dozen. I won’t say that there are no original ideas. I feel that statements like that are limiting. However, I’ve been around long enough to understand that having a bonafide idea in the creative world is not easy to come by. Having an idea (original or not) is not enough, though.

It’s about the work. It’s about the steps you take to mold the idea into something tangible. This is your process, and yours alone. Your process is whatever you do mentally and physically to get the creative result you are seeking. Your process is also a living, breathing entity. It too can evolve, and it should.

Depending on the type of creative work I am producing, my creative process involves many things. I won’t go into details because I’m not sure how useful it is, and I’m sure there are tons of better-written pieces of advice on developing your process. I will say that some of it I learned in art school, some as part of my own constant effort to learn, and some I gained as part of my real-world experience.

Once piece of the process that I learned a few years ago was that self-doubt was part of my process. When I take on any project, I’m excited and full of energy. As I do the work, I start to let the inner critic tell me that the effort, the ideas and the results all suck. Then self-doubt kicks in, telling me I should flat out quit. I’ve learned to accept this as part of my process. Like fear passing through Paul Atreides in Dune, I let self-doubt pass over me and through me. Instead of resisting it, I let it run its course. Then I move on to finish the work.

Your process and your work ethic are things that cannot be taken away from you. It’s what separates you from others who DO NOT put in the work. It shows in your final output. It’s why you took the time to care about your art, your craftsmanship, and your final result. For me, it’s the best feeling in the world.

Additional note: Your process is also what separates you from Ai-generated work. An automatic logo-maker that relies on an algorithm can’t create something with substance. Content written by Ai lacks depth and can’t generate a sense of wonder. Yet, there are people out there who think they can plug an idea into an Ai generator and use whatever it shits out. I say let them. Because when it’s gone, or when they lose access to Ai, they’ll be stuck.

Forgiveness and letting go in relation to creativity can be difficult to realize. I am hard on myself because I care about my output. I want to put out something good to read. I want to be worth of your time and attention, even for a little bit.

This is in relation to all my creative endeavors. I want you to stop and stare at my painting. My graphic design should inform as well as be interesting to look at. Reading my science fiction should inspire as well as entertain you.

None of the above is easy for anyone to achieve. I put my ego, my emotions and my sense of self through the ringer with the creation of every piece of output. For the record, I hate calling anything I make as “output” as it makes me feel like I’m some sort of factory robot spitting out content. We’ll just call it art.

Because I care about the quality, I get obsessed with making it perfect. That’s a bad thing, because too much perfectionism can render the art useless. At worst, I could decide to give up because I feel like it’s just not good enough. If left unchecked, this sort of barrier to creative output (eww) can be exhausting. At worst, it can burn you out.

When you burn out, you give up. Either you stop caring about the quality of your work, or you stop making things altogether. The stress and mental anguish are not worth enduring. So why even try. I’ve experienced this over the years, and it’s the worst feeling in the world. In the long run, giving up is a special kind of failure.

Learning to go easy on yourself is a useful tool in the emotional toolbox. However, I don’t think this comes easy to people in the creative field. The inner-critic sometimes goes on a rage when I am trying to work, and I start to doubt myself. Teetering between the fine line of self-doubt and positive reinforcement is dangerous.

Imagine you are stuck behind a very tall wall on three sides. You don’t have the option of going left or right to go around the wall. You can stay behind the wall, or move backwards.

The x-factor is you have a third option: you have the ability to jump over the wall. It’s an ability you were born with. No running start needed. Just crouch down, launch your body upward and clear the wall.

But, you can’t. Something is holding you back. It’s not a villain, or a physical restraint, or even gravity. You just can’t do it.

This is how I feel every day when it comes to self-expression, and to be bold and have no filter. I’ve struggled with it for as long as I can remember. So, naturally I decided to become an artist, graphic designer, and a science fiction writer.

I’ve read a lot of books on creativity and spent years looking for the answer to my problem. The most common things I found were as follows: fear, lack of confidence, overthinking. There’s more, but I think those three pertain to me the most.

I think fear is the most troublesome for me. I’m afraid to express myself and be authentic because I struggle with being vulnerable, and I fear being judged. I worry about what others would think and say. I shouldn’t, but I do. These thoughts paralyze me and halt my progress.

If the goal is to be authentic, then maybe I’ll take a small leap and share something I don’t talk a lot about: I was beaten as a child. When I was hit, I was not allowed to cry. I’ve told this to several therapists over the years, and they’ve never jumped on it. I never understood why. I’m not even an armchair psychologist, but I’m convinced there’s a link between those childhood experiences and my trouble to express myself.

This leads to lack of confidence, and I’ll lump in self-esteem into the mix. For me, confidence is like a giant ocean with waves that go high in the air. Some days its high, some days its low. I’ve read that childhood trauma can cause self-esteem issues. I feel like this is always going to be an issue. Also in my experience, I think “taking action” is the counter-move to self-esteem & confidence issues. Constant momentum in proving to yourself that you can make art, write and be creative feels like it’s the key.

Overthinking: all I can say is that my brain can run with racing thoughts at warp speed. I haven’t done any research into this, but I feel like this is related to fear. When my anxiety kicks in, it’s racing thoughts that also pile on as though I’m on the receiving end of a negative thought assembly line.

Having just typed out all of this, I realize that I’ve held the same job as a graphic designer and creative director for over twenty years. I’ve struggled a lot with these issues during my career and somehow I’m still here. My dayjob isn’t easy, but I find ways to make it work.

I’ve dealt with these struggles since before college. I’m 45 years old now, and there’s no magic formula that I’ve been able to find that will help me get over this. I have a lot to say. I have opinions. I have truths to express. Sharing the bit about my childhood was a struggle in of itself. Maybe that’s progress.

I’m in love.

When my marriage ended in 2019, I knew I’d fall in love again. I wasn’t in a rush to find someone, but I met a woman that completely changed my perspective. Now, my understanding of love is evolving.

Love is easy: there was something different about my girlfriend and it started from when I first met her. I can’t put it in any other way than just saying “when you know, you know.” A thousand synapses popped in my brain. She was in my head living rent free.

Love is scary: in the beginning, there were a lot of uncertainties, and I didn’t know how to navigate them. I was nervous, and I didn’t want to screw this up. I got a therapist that I’ve been seeing for over a year. So far, it turned out to be a good decision. Being open and honest about this with my girlfriend was tough, but she is very supportive and has made it very easy for me to talk about it.

Love is awesome: I’m relearning what it means to be in a relationship, and to share ourselves, our loves, fears, and to have these shared experiences. We laugh so much. We’ve cried as well. We’ve experienced different levels of loss and helped each other through it.

Love is hard: that’s what she said. We are not perfect. We’ve had our fair share of arguments, disagreements and misunderstandings. We are both learning to navigate these exchanges so we are heard and supported. Therapy has helped with this.

Love is messy: there are times when I doubt myself. Sometimes I’ve made the wrong decision for various reasons. There are times when I’m so afraid of making the same mistakes as I did in my marriage that I get in my own way. I’m in my own head, and with the way my mind works, I create a negative feedback loop that is difficult to come down from. I help myself through it, and she does as well.

Still reeling from the Eagles Super Bowl loss, and I don't feel like doing anything: working, writing, listening to music, eating breakfast, NOTHING.

Figured now is a good time to test this theory of pushing through when I don't feel like doing the work. I'm in a very unfocused state right now, so how do I make something valuable? How do I make something that will resonate, when I am not in the right mind to create such a thing?

First, I need to calm the hell down. It's early Monday morning, and I have a ton of deadlines at my day job. I work with no distractions anyway (aside from interruptions since it's an open office environment) and as a graphic designer, I consider it a mortal sin to be late with a deadline. Discipline is key.

Second, I need to keep my emotions in check. I don't feel like saying "good morning" to anyone. I don't want to chat about the game. I don't want to talk about the pile of projects. None of that is good behavior though. Sure, the game's outcome sucked, but life moves on, and this unfocused feeling will too.

Third, I need to remember that I'm only human. I'm allowed to be unfocused from time-to-time, for any reason. Its fine to take a little time to myself, and remember that life indeed moves on. Go easy on myself.

Making time to cut my teeth and flex my writer muscles was one obstacle I’ve overcome. I’ve made some progress with sitting down and writing. It’s not a lot of momentum, but I was inching forward… until now.

It’s the third day in a row that I’ve sat down to write. The last two days I had this energy and drive to get words down.

Today I’m stuck.

I was not sure what to write about. I already discussed starting over, and the struggle to find my voice. I have a lot more to say about struggling to express myself as a writer and artist, but I don’t have my thoughts gathered enough to write about it.

So, today I’m stuck. I figured I’d write about that.

I haven’t experienced a lot of writer’s block throughout my writing adventures. Whenever I felt like I was stuck or blocked, I would move on to something else; another part of the story, a different story entirely, work on plot or outline, or do whatever research I needed for the story. Usually, that passage of time is enough for me to come back to where I was stuck on.

I didn’t want the morning to go by without writing, so I figured I’d tackle the notion of being stuck in the moment, and maybe practice expressing what I’m feeling.

The reason I’m stuck is because (I’ve paused for five strait minutes now) I am drawing a blank. I have a lot of ideas and opinions on many subjects, but I’m having a hard time picking something that I feel would be worthy of reading. It’s like having Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, Paramount+, Disney+, HBO Max, Peacock, Apple TV+, all in one place, and still struggling to decide what to watch.

How do I feel? Several things: frustrated because I’m struggling to make this interesting. I spent time looking at hosting platforms yesterday, thinking I wanted to take this particular blogging activity up a few levels. That would mean paying for hosting, a domain name, and other things associated with developing a website. I’d be paying to post this. Would you spend time reading? Probably not.

I also feel anxious. I have a lot of knowledge about creativity, art, design, and writing… but I feel like I’m not putting that knowledge to good use. It’s difficult to express this emotion, because I’m struggling with the notion that this is a worthy use of my time. I’m also struggling with the fact that no one will read this, because it’s not interesting. I find it difficult to write about myself, and this bleeds into a lot of my struggle of self-expression.

Having reread the last two paragraphs, I see that I’ve expressed some emotion, but its not very poetic. That’s another struggle to examine for another time. I only mention it now because it bleeds into the subject as a whole. I get stuck because I want my output to look good, be worthy of someone’s time, and (eventually) be published professionally.

We are our own worst critic, and today, the critic has had twelve cups of super-caffeinated coffee and has grown to be twenty feet tall, and is punching the back of my head, telling me to erase this entry and clean the house. Especially after that last run-on sentence.

So, from today’s writing I’ve learned that being stuck is a product of several things: self-criticism, self-doubt, and perfectionism. What I also learned is this: I pushed through it. It may not be pretty, but I did it. Every step I take is a step forward.

Some of my favorite writers include Chuck Wendig, John Scalzi, Catherynne Valenti, Delilah S. Dawson and Wil Wheaton. What they all have in common is they also write great essays, blogs and tweets that people respond to. They are able to express thoughts and emotions with so much potent energy that it’s impossible to NOT read, because they also keep it interesting.

In Chuck Wendig’s blog TERRIBLE MINDS, he defines voice as follows: The writer’s voice is the thing that marks the work as a creation of that writer and that writer ONLY. You read a thing and you say, “This could not have been written by anybody else.” THAT is voice.

He further states “It’s also a component of practice and maturity.”

That’s the part that hurt the most to read. I already knew this. In fact, I’ve experienced that in my creative life.

I’ve been a graphic designer for over twenty years. I know about artistic voice. I understand that these things take time and effort. In my case, it takes constant time and effort. To get to where I am today, I’ve had to grind for a long time. In fact, sometimes I still feel like I’m grinding. For me, graphic design is a constant creative struggle, but I’ve found ways to punch through and persevere, with (mostly) positive results.

So, why do I feel like finding my writing voice so difficult?

My fiction, my prose, my blogs… there’s a lack of substance, emotion, punch, zeal, authenticity, anything to make it interesting. Even in the handful of articles that have been published, I feel like I could have done a better job of making it more interesting. Granted, in those cases, my editors were a big help.

Mr. Wendig also states that we mimic our writer influences, because we write like those writers we most frequently read. Eventually we stop doing that, but their influence can still exist in our writing, and that’s okay. I know that I don’t write like Chuck, or Mr. Scalzi, or Ms. Valenti, but they have certainly been influential.

So, this is why I’m here: to sharpen my writing teeth (is that a thing?) To spurt out this boring garbage in the hopes that someday when I write, my true self will emerge, and I won’t have these thoughts of “how does Scalzi do it!?” …and just let my voice flow on the page.

Fourteen years ago I woke up and decided I wanted to write science fiction. In the months that followed, I sought out writing advice by reading blogs and finding books on writing. It occurred to me that I wasn't doing the one thing that a lot of writing advice was telling me to do... which was to write.

Starting is the hardest part. In any creative endeavor, I have always felt like starting was always the one thing that kept me from doing the thing I wanted to achieve. But, when I did start, the floodgates would open and I would let loose.

It was even difficult to start writing this! I took out my iPad and keyboard, then I fixed a coffee, took time to select the appropriate playlist (music without words, since I'll be actively thinking as I type.) Then I quickly checked Mastodon, Spoutible (its new!) and Twitter. To be fair, that last one was because I have a morbid curiosity of how far it's fallen.

Before I knew it, nearly twenty minutes have gone by. That's time I could've spent writing.

Thinking back through the past fourteen years, my creative writing output is very sporadic. I've gone through waves of productivity. After publishing several articles and venturing into screenwriting (my own #StarTrek TNG project) over the past couple of years, my current lull has lasted over a year.

I know I've lost a step, and it does not feel good. Because the previous year I produced quite a bit of work.

This has always been the folly of my writing journey. Two steps forward, three steps back.

I could blame it on a lot of things: workload at my day job, raising a daughter, devoting time to a romantic relationship, house chores, other creative endeavors, gaming, my fitness routine, hobbies, traveling through time, international espionage, establishing a new social media site that unites humanity in a positive way... okay, I made the last two things up, but it COULD HAPPEN.

So, I've taken a tiny step forward. Just like exercise, I'll be taking it slow to build back those muscles. I'm a firm believer in the following phrase: everything I do, no matter how small, is working towards building something.

Here I sit, dealing with two battles raging in my head.

I’m reading Harlan Ellison, trying to crack the code of the spitfire he uses in his essays. If I can deconstruct the syntax and the words he carefully chose to express his contempt, rage or joy and learn from those deconstructions so I may finally learn to express myself... I would still be in this situation.

The other battle: my mind keeps wondering where it all went wrong.

I just finished purging the photos from my previous life. It was a cleanse that was sorely needed. There were twinges of pain at looking at those old photos; a lot of smiling, travel, outings, memories. All gone now.

It also means cutting ties and severing links that took decades to mend. I thought they would be harder than rebar to separate, but I’m in a weird state of peace. Almost numb, actually.

C’mon, Harlan... I know the “secret” to writing is to JUST WRITE. But, you had something about your writing that made people react. You had people raging, and laughing, and the crazies came at you. Nixon blacklisted you. All because you had the cojones to speak your truth, and write your heart.

Here I sit... at the edge of my new life, wondering where it all went wrong.

There’s this robot that moves around my grocery store. It slowly trudges along scanning the aisles. I think its purpose is to detect messes so it can alert the staff that there needs to be a clean-up in a specific aisle. 

This robot is roughly six-foot tall, and has cameras all around it. I’m guessing there are sensors too, because it stops as soon as anyone comes close to it. The other day, it still managed to get in my way while I was talking to Siri.

During this global pandemic, I conduct most of my office communication through email and Zoom, the video-conferencing app. I FaceTime and text with other friends.

My ex FaceTimes with our daughter, who’s currently “stuck” (her words) with me, because her mother works in a hospital.

My daughter is also starting school online.

I watch live streams on Twitch and YouTube, and read social media to understand how other people are dealing with the stay-at-home order in their part of the world, and the growing problems with the virus and the economy.

During the past year, I've discovered more women writers of contemporary space opera, and it’s filling the void.

Last summer I discovered Becky Chambers and her Wayfarers series. I had just finished rereading the latest Expanse book, Tiamat’s Wrath. I hadn’t heard of Becky Chambers or the Wayfarers series. I was watching online when she won the Hugo for Best Series in 2019, and “Wayfarers” sounded like it could be space opera, so it piqued my interest.

After a double dose of the hard and gritty world of The Expanse, I was pleasantly surprised by the world building of Chambers’ first Wayfarers book The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet. It wasn’t nearly as gritty or hard-hitting, but Chambers’ world building perfectly set the tone for her series. It was a different flavor of space opera, and I was all in.

In late summer and early fall of 2019, as I was absorbing Becky Chambers’ trilogy, Delilah S. Dawson’s Star Wars novel Galaxy’s Edge was released. I was already a Dawson fan, especially after her various Star Wars short stories, and excellent Phasma novel. Dawson also had an original space adventure comic titled Star Pig during that time.

In September, Valerie Valdes and her debut space novel Chilling Effect had hit the shelves. Rebecca Roanhorse’s Star Wars: Resistance Reborn, a Rise of Skywalker tie-in novel was released in November. Around that same time, Ms. Dawson’s original Firefly graphic novel The Sting released. 

I’ve recently discovered Corinna Bechko and her list of gritty space-faring comics, including Invisible Republic and Deep Gravity. Valerie Valdes has also just unveiled her cover for her follow-up to Chill Effect entitled Prime Deceptions.

Needless to say, I own everything I just mentioned... except for Prime Deceptions, which will be preordered as soon as it’s live.

The reason I bring all of this up is because this is clear evidence that the on-going disapproval of women in comics and science fiction is bullshit, and it always has been. I’m not sure why I took notice of all of these titles and writers (except for Dawson and Valdes, who I am following on Twitter) at just the right time, but I’m sure if I looked hard enough, I could find women writing top-level space opera in any decade going back to Leigh Brackett and the 50s. I’m betting I’ll have to look very closely to find them (beyond names off the top of my head like Elizbeth Moon and Anne McCaffery.)