Hello there, all you bad ass Punky Moms and Dads out there. For those of you who are not familiar with me, my name is Michael Fisher, Fish to my friends. I am blessed to be married to our own Great and Powerful Oz, Azxure. While my career for the last two decades has been as a tattoo artist, I am also a writer, editor and cover designer for J. Ellington Ashton Press, an up-and-coming horror publisher.
We soon have the combined moment of Halloween happening this weekend, and the next morning will begin National Novel Writing Month. I thought I would chime in here as someone familiar with the scary, and writing about it . As I say all the time, for some of us, every month is NaNoWriMo, although I never seem to reach the goals set forth by that particular challenge. I know we have some aspiring novel writers on here, and to that I will channel Shia Leboeuf and say, “Just do it!”
The only way to get better at writing, like any other creative art, is to do it and keep doing it until it seems to get easier. My first novel was not completed in a month, or even a year. It took me eleven years to finally get a wrap on DC’s Dead. I hit that wall so commonly known as writer’s block, until about three years ago. I finally muscled through it. Now, I spend much of my free time, usually waiting on my children, writing.
If you want to write, write. Don’t let anyone discourage you. At the same time, don’t get your hopes up too high, dreaming about being the next Stephen King or JK Rowling. While I think my stories are gold, I know writing is a hobby, not a primary source of income, for me. The number of books published each year has skyrocketed with the ease of self-publishing, therefore getting noticed by the Big Five publishers is less and less likely.
We don’t write to get rich; We do it because we must write, lest the creatures in our heads take over. Creative outlets are vital to everyone. Some of us draw or paint, others knit or play music, other write. The truly lucky ones get to do many of them. A great man once said that if you can find something you enjoy doing; you are doing well in life. If you enjoy doing it and do it well; you are truly lucky. If you enjoy doing it, do it well and can get paid for it; you’ve hit the lottery. In that regard, I have hit the lottery twice, once with tattooing and once with writing. Of course, one pays better than the other. Since you aren’t seeing my name on the New York Times best sellers lists, I bet you can guess which one it is.
Basically, whatever creative outlet appeals to you, go for it. The worst that can happen is you find it isn’t for you.
As this is the season for all things spooky, I though I would share a little something that came to me in the middle of the night a while back.
The dream was such a warm, comforting feeling, almost like being cradled in his mother’s arms, or a return to the womb. It was so soothing; it was as if he could hear his mother’s heart beating. Thump-thump-thump-thump. The dream abruptly ended, the much-needed relaxation torn away.
He jerked awake to his wife clutching at his shoulder, panicked and staring at a large black shape at the end of the bed. An ebony canine shape, panting; its tail rhythmically thumping on the footboard. He patted her on the shoulder, murmuring, “It’s only the dog. Go back to sleep,” as he rolled over, and tried to return to his blissful slumber.
She continued to stare at the obviously happy dog, eyes glinting in the streetlight from the window, tongue lolling out, as she quivered in fear. Their dog had been put down three weeks earlier. It didn’t stop the lovable mutt from wanting some late night attention.
If you are interested in reading some of my longer stories, please check out my website, Epic Fish Tales for links to my Amazon author page, as well as individual books.