Hello, again. I was recently invited to participate in the My Writing Process Blog Tour by the ever-so-talented and lovely Shannon A. Thompson. As requested, four questions asked and four questions answered.
1. What am I working on?
Like the breaking of a bathroom mirror, my projects have splintered into a myriad of channels with the The Acid Oasis as its point of origin. I have temporarily shelved my song-writing to focus my attention on, well, everything else. Among this very website upon which you have stumbled, I am also working with Elvis Dominguez on what we have aptly dubbed “The Satin Project.” Satin is my first attempt at writing a novel and has also proven to be a driving force and possible launching pad as I pursue writing as a profession. Satin will consist of at least two books which, by design and divine intervention alike, could be read in any order. More to come on this, of course.
2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?
The Acid Oasis, at its core, is my journal. At seventeen I never imagined for those poorly drafted lines to ever reach beyond the pages of the composition notebook. I started beneath the flicker of candle; an image rushed to my prefrontal cortex and I then submitted control to the pen held firmly in my right hand. The fallen ink formed words and I brushed them off as poetry as it was written in lines instead of sentences that were strung along rhythmically. As this continued off and on for several years, I had conceded that I was, in fact, a poet and a tad bit “left of center.” I wrote of emotions I hadn’t felt, scenes that hadn’t played out, and paths down which I hadn’t walked… yet. Just as any self-fullfilling prophecy would, came that fateful evening enveloped in despair, that I would find a passage written by my own hand many years prior. It spoke out to its reader, calling to light the shaking ground upon which they stood, upon which I then stood. I knew what I had done and still needed to do.
I compiled all that I had written thus far and traveled back home to New York where Elvis, my closest and longest kept friend, and I deciphered the text and organized the “poems” to fit the chronological series of events that had transpired throughout the years. I continued to write out the years to come, as I had originally, with this new-found knowledge, and arranged for its publication through Lulu.com.
While The Acid Oasis is, essentially, a book of poetry, it is anything but. It is my journal. It is my gift. It is a lighthouse to help me find my way back home.
3. Why do I write what I do?
This question is better asked “Why do I write?” as my next en devour is unlike my only other. I write because I am writer. While it does not yet sustain financially, it does so spiritually and mentally. I’ve been on my own since the later part of my sixteenth year on this planet. I’ve always shared a great disconnect with the world around me and I have been solely responsible for my mental and emotional well-being far longer. I’ve rented space inside my mind to rather insistent demons and have harbored them there ever since. I was taught early on to surrender to the system rather than to challenge it, catering to routine and submissive patterns. Writing found me at my darkest and it is through writing that I have learned to connect with my most underrated and under appreciated ally, myself. Writing frees me.
4. How does my writing process work?
It isn’t a process at all. It is orchestrated chaos, an opera with no stage. I write when the storms fill my head. I write when the dust settles and after the kids are tucked into bed. The twilight hours are mine alone. I write when I am on my own. It is challenging to find the time, I must admit. I am a full time field IT technician providing on-site support and the majority of my time and patience. When I am not at work, I am a dutiful father and husband, providing support to child-rearing, cooking, cleaning, and the like.
All that said, in my few perishable, stolen moments I make every attempt to mentally escape from my immediate surroundings. A small vial of frankincense sits to my left just beyond a tarot deck. Headphones are slipped comfortably over my ears as ambient music transports me to a state of mental clarity. I may describe my writing as a painting. It is a reproduction of all that I see, taste, and feel when I am not bound by time.