Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Just Another Update

Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Let’s sit down with a cup of tea and catch up for a little bit. Or coffee. Or hell, maybe wine.

This won’t be a long, drawn out thing where I apologize and make a bunch of promises about posting more often and all that stuff. That’s my intent, but that’s not exactly the kind of riveting content you’re likely looking for in a blog post. I will take a little time, though.

I don’t particularly like leaving long gaps in posting, but I was working on a pretty tight deadline. Stupid me, I decided I’d promise a publisher three books in a very short timeframe. I did manage it, and I think it’s going to turn out as something very worthwhile. That deadline fell in the middle of a convention I was headed off to, so that happened. And then we came back and one of our dogs died the next day.

Suffice it to say I was a little bit distracted.

This is basically just a little spit of a post to explain what’s been going on, and to reassure you that I’m not dead and I haven’t forgotten anything or stopped writing. Nothing like that, I promise. Just a bit of a clusterfuck, for lack of a better word.

So I’ll talk to y’all later. I’m going to jump back in and get my knuckles popping and moving. Writing writing writing.


Thursday, September 15, 2016

Subtle Diversity in Fiction

It’s pretty common knowledge that I’m an advocate for diversity in fiction. Gender, sexuality, ethnicity. Those are where I’ve managed to, I think, do something with my books. I’ve actively tried to include people from diverse backgrounds in those areas, and I have intentions to include other kinds of diversity when I feel I can do justice to the experience. That includes religion and, more cogent to this post, neurodiversity. People with bipolar disorder, or dissociative identity, or on the autism spectrum. Which is what I want to talk about, but we’ll see about that very shortly.

I think the best way you can include diversity isn’t to make it overt. Not that there are no stories to be told in regards to all that. There are important stories with a very intense connection to the diversity they hold, and they need to be told. They need to be told with respect and knowledge and a damned good understanding of how fiction works, and they will be. But for me, the things I deal with and the way I tend to deal with them, I do my best to make the diversity less in your face. It doesn’t always work out that way, of course. I have characters who are a bit more “right there” with how they’re different.

I was thinking about diversity today, looking at which works I loved that really nailed it. And one came immediately to mind. One that made quite a stir in its time, is still much loved and respected among readers (And film goers, in that format.): Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Now, you might thing I’m talking about Patrick, who’s gay. But, as much fun as Patrick is, and as much as I love his story and his characterization, I would hardly call him subtle or understated. His plot is very much focused on how he’s gay and people are not okay with that. Super heart-wrenching for me personally, for hopefully obvious reasons, but not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about Charlie, the main character/narrator. He’s a perfect example of neurodiversity done extremely well, in my opinion. Now, it’s not that it’s never brought up (Obligatory spoiler warning: turn back now if you want to burst into tears reading this book like I did.). Charlie was known to be suicidal, and that does come back around. He even medicates for it.

But that’s not the beautifully subtle part of his character that works so damn well. Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I think there are two very possible options, both of which have strong evidence. What matters most isn’t the exact definition of how Charlie differed from what’s considered average, but the fact that he did, we readers knew it, and we felt for him and loved him anyway. But for matters of clarification, I’m going to lay down two theories: Charlie was either on the autism spectrum, or he was suffering from PTSD from (More spoilers!!) being molested by his aunt as a child… and/or her sudden death that he blames himself for. Most likely and instead of or, if you ask me.

Charlie is emotional over relatively small things. He’s prone to depressive episodes, blind rages, violence. He doesn’t appear to know his own strength. He’s socially awkward, to the point of having only one friend, and for a while none. And so many smaller things that would be difficult to catalog. It's not clear cut to be labeled, especially when I'm not a psychologist in any sense. But they are signs of something other than what we consider baseline neural activity.

And that got me thinking about diversity, and a way things can be handled. We don’t make them a large spectacle, because sometimes that isn’t the best way to make an impact. Sure, sometimes it is, but not always. As a writer or a reader, you make that decision for yourself. But for me, I like to see it handled gently.

So I’m curious: what books do you enjoy that display subtle diversity? Let me know in the comments: always looking for good book recommendations, after all.


Monday, August 15, 2016

On Reading

This is a post inspired by… well, by a lot of things. For one, I’m always going to be a fan of reading. I mean, really, that’s a big part of why I write. If I hadn’t grown up a reader, raised by a reader, devouring books until I ran out of them, I wouldn’t be writing books.

For two, I’ve been desperately trying to read more. My reading severely slowed down when I started really writing professionally, taking it seriously, all that. There’s a great breakdown I just read about this over on Chuck Wendig’s blog. As always when I share my favorite curse-fueled penmonkey (That’s what I call Chuck Wendig when I’m alone.), I’m going to say it’s an NC-17 blog, and this post is no exception. But it’s also one of my favorite blogs on the entire internet. I mean, admittedly, I’m a writer, so it’s in my wheelhouse, but still. It’s an excellent one worth checking out (So are his books. FYI.).

And for three, I see all my friends and acquaintances actually reading, which I really do miss. One of my best friends has been reading James A. Mitchener, my mother just reread all the Harry Potter books, and I’m always seeing my Goodreads friends blast through a book in a couple of days. Plus with so many good books out there I haven’t read… well, it just seemed like it was high time for me to get started.

But it does make me curious, in a sort of existential, philosophical way: why do we read, and why do authors not read as much? Again, I would turn you to Chuck Wendig for the bit about authors, because I think he nails it (And it’s entertaining, if not entirely universal.). But why do we read? Why, when there’s plenty of other things providing a more immediate option for entertainment, like movies and video games and your fifteenth rewatching of Frasier (I’ve seen the series front to back at least that many times. Don’t judge me.), do we choose to devote hours upon hours of our lives to reading books?

I don’t know enough about psychology to make any actual judgments on the real implications of reading, but for me, it’s relaxation. When I watch movies or play games, those aren’t relaxing for me. Those make me tense. And it’s not that books never illicit any real emotion from me, but when I feel stressed or sad or shocked in a book, it’s less of a strain on my system, for a lack of a better term. I can relax with a book. I mean, all right, sometimes I’ll get sucked into a book and read it until 4 in the morning, but that’s also something I can’t do with movies or games. They don’t grab me in the same way, except in exceedingly rare situations.

So I’m curious – why do you pick books? Why do you read instead of anything else? I’m honestly curious. Let me know and I’ll love you forever. Or something like that.


Wednesday, July 27, 2016

State of the Voss

Jesus H. Christ, it’s been a crazy couple months. I’m sorry I kind of vanished like that, but life has been in pretty massive turmoil. However, I have been working, so there’s that. I have good news on that front… but first, the less than good news that’s kept me a bit distracted.

There’s a couple things that sort of conspired to make this mess. The biggest one has been the dogs with cancer. I talked about this in my last newsletter (Which was admittedly forever and a half ago), but we’ve had two dogs with tumors in the past couple months. One of them was a benign little mammary tumor, so that was just a surgery and she was good. The other one was a grade 3 histiocytoma… not quite as easy. Poor little guy went through a month of radiation, and he’s getting chemo every 10 days until they’re sure that he’s good to go. As you can imagine, that held quite a bit of my attention. For a while. But we’re settling into a routine around here again.

So, on to the good news. I’ve definitely not forgotten about Evenstad Media Presents. This cancer adventure (Let’s call it that.) put the brakes on a bit, but I officially can give you some actual information on this. Are you ready? The Tunnels, Evenstad Media Presents #4, is written. It’s edited and it’s formatted and all that happy whatnot. I’ve got the art request form in with my cover artist, so once that’s done, I’ll be able to get it up on the ‘Zon, get the print book put together, and it will (finally) be in your hot little hands.

I think The Tunnels is the best book in the series since The Park. I know I should love all my books equally, but… this one. Without giving too much away, this book sees a lot of long-running plot threads come to a head, and it sets us all up for a strong run to the final book (#7). Things start to get really shaken up in this book, and they only get more and more shaken until the series is over, which just excites the crap out of me.

Beyond that, I’ve started working off of a yearly schedule. I mean, sure, it starts in July instead of January, but it lasts a year. Not important. What is important is what’s on it. By next June, I should have Evenstad #5 and #6 done and either out or ready to ship out very shortly, and then it goes on to the final installment. I also have Rings of Injustice, the third book in my big, sweeping sci-fi series (That I still haven’t published. Don’t worry, that’s coming soon, too.) on the schedule, as well as five books for The Other Me. I figured I can do about 9-10 books each year as long as I stick to my schedule.

Anything else? Umm… well, I’ll be at some conventions and such in the area with the Northwest Authors Co-Op. I believe our next event is at the end of September, for V-Con in Vancouver, BC. And I’ll be presenting a workshop at the Idaho Writers League conference in Couer d’Alene and at the Moses Lake Public Library Comic-Con in Moses Lake… at the library. Go figure. If you’ll be at or around any of those events, go ahead and swing on over and say hi!

I believe that’s it. I’ll make sure to keep y’all much more updated than I did the past couple months… unless something completely insane happens again. Then I may disappear for a bit. But barring the unforeseen? I’ll see you on the bestseller lists (Maybe… hopefuly?).


Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Amazing Representation, Brought to You by... Network Television?

So, normally when I talk about a show or a movie or a book or what have you, I try to keep it to sci-fi or fantasy. Maybe horror, paranormal, wuxia, bizarro. That’s for hopefully pretty obvious reasons. I’ll never deny the power that sci-fi and fantasy has to bring people together (Perhaps I’ll go in depth on that at a later date.).

But not today. As much as I’m for SF/F, I’m also for diversity a hundred times more. With my work, that tends to cover sexual diversity, gender diversity, and ethnic diversity more than anything else. That’s my schtick, so to speak, and it’s important, and there’s a lot of room to work with in there. But there’s so much more that can be done than that. There’s religious diversity and socioeconomic diversity. But I’ve even touch on that. A lot of people have.

I want to talk about something I’ve never seen anybody have (Pardon my French) the BALLS to cover before. I certainly don’t have them. I’m sure it’s been done, but I would bet not often. And I have to hand it to Jenna Bans for not only taking this plunge, but for hitting it out of the fucking stratosphere.

I want to talk about The Family. So, if you haven’t seen it or haven’t caught up, this is your warning: Spoilers. All the spoilers. Well, maybe not all of them, but definitely spoilers. So… turn back now if you don’t want any, basically.

(And seriously, you really should watch this show. Because fucking Christ on a bike is it a head trip.)

All right, so if you’re here I’m just going to assume you’ve seen it or you don’t care if the show gets spoiled. I take no further responsibility. If you have seen the show, you can probably figure out where I’m going already: Hank Asher. He’s easily the most likable (Read: only likable) character in the entire show. He’s the moral center of the whole program.

He’s also a pedophile. And before you run for the hills, I want you to note that A: I didn’t say child molester and B: there’s a difference. There is a child molester in this show. That’s Doug Anderson, the man who kidnapped the boy who’s the center of the entire plot and kept him locked up to molest him at his leisure (Did I mention the adult themes in this show? No? Oh… well, there are adult themes.).

But Hank Asher is a pedophile. He doesn’t molest children. He’s attracted to them, and the entire show, you see him fighting against his urges at every last second. He admits to kidnapping a boy and gets sent to prison, because he knows he won’t be able to hurt anyone there. He voluntarily receives hormone injections to curb his desires. He’d rather not feel any arousal than risk doing something he knows is wrong. And sure, he has some genuinely creepy moments. He has a box of children’s toys under his bed. But you see how he got at least one of them, and can extrapolate that it’s how he got all of them. A boy left it behind. He never touched the boy, but he kept that one thing… and that’s as illegal as it gets. Technically, I think that’s theft, but it’s really just an accident that happens sometimes.

Hank Asher knows he has these urges, but he works to protect children… from himself. At least once, he attempts suicide, because that's the most complete solution to the problem. A boy comes to see his mother, a piano teacher, and he refuses to open the door. He tells another boy that he can’t come over there anymore. And in the finale, we see a brilliant scene. He almost does give in. We’ve all been there with something we know is not right, although I’m guessing to a lesser degree for most people. A twelve year old boy asks for a ride home after he takes a bad crash on his skateboard. Hank tries to resist, but he ends up giving in… and giving a false name. As the viewer, your heart just jumps up into your throat. You’ve watched him resist and fight the entire season, and he’s skirting so close to it, now. He’s missed his latest hormone injection. He’s capable of this, and his desires are back.

And you cut to them in front of the boy’s house. He’s given him a ride home, and he’s obviously having some issues. He’s saying more and more insistently that the boy needs to get out of the car. Starts yelling. The door is sticking. Tension is building. Hank’s just not holding it together, and all you can think is “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

And he reaches across and opens the door for the boy, yells at him to get out. And that’s it. He stays in control. And I don’t think that’s a narrative we see often enough. Whether or not you like the plot, I think The Family is worth watching just for the character study that is Hank Asher. You initially think he’s super-creepy, but it’s not long before you start really feeling sorry for him. And then you start siding with him, out of everyone on the show. By the end, he was the character I was most invested in.

While this family is dealing with stupid shit, like the upcoming election, or an affair, Hank’s the only one who notices that their son is sneaking out in the middle of the night. And it gives you one of my second favorite lines from this whole show. “Your head’s so buried in the sand, you need the friendly neighborhood pedophile to come over and tell you that you should be a better mother and keep an eye on your son.” And he tells this family even after they filed a restraining order against him, and have just generally been vile people. After it came out that Hank Asher didn’t even commit the crime in the first place.

But I think my favorite bit is what really sums up why I love this show so much, and more specifically the way Hank Asher is handled. If I could track down a clip, I’d put it here. I’ll link the whole episode if you’re interested. Just jump to 28:48. But I’ll transcribe the important little bit (It’s of note that John is the boy’s father.).

Hank: Have you ever wanted to have sex with a woman who didn’t want to have sex with you?
John: That’s rape.
Hank: Yes.
John: That’s wrong.
Hank: Yes.
John: I’d never do it.
Hank: Neither would I.

That’s why this show wins, in my opinion. In our society, we conflate child molesters with pedophiles. And yes, this is a touchy subject, but that’s why it doesn’t get talked about, and that’s why I can’t do anything but commend this show for the way it handled Hank. It’s a big fuck you to the way things “Should be.” It said, “We’re going to make you like this pedophile way more than the rest of the people on this show.” And then it delivered.

If you want to see a character done right, I can’t recommend The Family enough. And you can watch the whole run of the show for free (And legally.) on ABC’s website. So yay!


Saturday, May 14, 2016

Release: The Elf's Apprentice by Frances Pauli

She's back again! You all know by now how much I love Frances Pauli's books. Well, there's another one to add to my shelf, and maybe you'l add it to yours too: The Elf's Apprentice. Book One of the Love and Magic Series. I got the privilege to read this one early, and it's an incredible book.

A sorcerer, a rebel, and a whole kingdom under fire...

As the sorcerer's new apprentice, Kia's fiery temper is bound to get her into hot water. Evander is obnoxious, arrogant, intolerable, and undeniably the most beautiful elf alive. Even if she passes his relentless testing, working at his side just might kill her. 

Worse, her master has powerful enemies inside the palace. When their attacks turn personal, the sorcerer's apprentice becomes the perfect bait in a deadly trap set to destroy the man who has become far more than just her boss. 

Two lost souls must defend their world, but even if they save the kingdom, they risk losing each other forever.

"That's a human," he said. "You're getting desperate."

"She's very good. The best I've seen yet." Lyssia's tone brooked no argument. She got one, just the same.

"And you're the expert on apprentices, I suppose. Perhaps you should stay up here and do my work, and I'll attend to your throne?"

"I am not unskilled, you'll remember."

"And I'm no diplomat." Evander sniffed and stepped away from the wall.

Kia forgot for a moment that they were debating her. The elf sorcerer moved like honey flowing. Each gesture was measured, considered, and then executed with the typical elvin grace, but melded with the deliberate intellect of a master sorcerer. He peered around Lyssia at her, and his eyes held her entranced, frozen as if they truly could cast her in ice.

"I don't need an apprentice," he said.

Kia felt the rejection like a slap that time. This room, this opportunity dangled in front of her, and he meant to snatch it away again without even giving her a chance to try for it.

"Yes you do," Lyssia said. "If for no other reason than to manage this disaster."

"What disaster?" Evander released Kia from the grip of his attention and turned the full chill of his mood on the princess. "This room is exactly in the order I prefer it."

"That book is on fire."

"What?" He spun that time, lost a fraction of his composure in the realization that one of his braziers had, in fact, caught a book on fire. His arms waved in an arc. The sleeves of the heavy red robe he wore billowed, and the flames died. A single line of smoke rippled up to the rafters. "Bother."

"You see?" Lyssia crossed her arms again and winked at Kia over her shoulder.

As if they'd won, Kia thought, but she very much doubted that they had. The way she saw it, they'd only irritated the beast.

"You bring me imbeciles," Evander complained. He kept his back to them now, as if they weren't worth noting, and he moved to the nearest table and adjusted a stack of papers. "Idiots. I can't work with them."

"You haven't even tried."

"What? This one? What does it matter? The last seven were morons. Why should this one be any better?"

"You will test her." Lyssia's tone shifted now. He'd pissed her off good, and Kia held in place when the princess marched toward the sorcerer. "You'll do it, Evander, or I'll schedule a full month of diplomatic dinners."

"You wouldn't." He stopped fiddling with the papers and stared up at the wafting smoke.

"Try me." Lyssia stood taller and stuck out her chin.

They left Kia to herself, standing alone inside the door, forgotten except as a topic for their argument. She was unwanted, invisible, and he'd never, ever let her work here.

"She probably can't even cast a column of fire."

"You are the most difficult man..."

Kia focused on the slate tiles in the center of the room. Don't speak unless addressed, Lyssia had said. Well, Evander was not about to address her, and casting magic wasn't exactly speaking. She drew the symbols in her mind, pulled the ambient magic out of the ether and felt the full weight of the room's history in that flow. Sparky wild magic with a mind of its own.

It tasted of him, of charcoal and orneriness.

She drew the power into her skin, molded it with her intent backed by the magic of the sigils she'd selected. Then, she threw it outward, anchoring the package with a final symbol, to a tile in the middle of the floor.

Flame lifted from the square of stone. It rippled upward. An eruption of fire rising in a dense, dancing column. It burned under her command and made a pillar seven feet high before flickering back on itself like a fountain. Kia held the spell, kept the fire alive and waited for anyone to notice what she'd done.

"....perfectly capable of maintaining my own affairs. What is that?"

It didn't take long.

"I believe it's a column of fire," Lyssia answered. She put a little triumph in her voice, but the look she cast at Kia held a warning.

Be still, it said. Don't push your luck.

"Barely." Evander sniffed, pulled himself out of his argument with Lyssia, and focused instead on Kia. The eyes. This time when they found her they had a darker edge. "So the monkey can do a trick, I see."

Kia held the spell together, but only just. The flames at the top shot a few sparks, sputtered as if a gust of wind had snatched at them. Evander seized up that weakness. He meant to force her to lose concentration, to distract her into failure. But at least he was actually testing her now.

"Can your pet manipulate it?" He still didn't address her directly either. He kept his words for Lyssia, but he unleashed a fully self-satisfied smile upon Kia. "Can she change its form?"

Kia focused. She ignored the sorcerer, even when he stalked closer to her. The column tried to resist her, and she couldn't help but suspect his hand in that. Still, she drew the lines in her mind, imagined the form she wanted, and pressed her full desire to succeed into the weaving.

The column shifted. It branched and flowered, transforming into a burning tree in full bloom.

Evander harrumphed and stepped directly in front of her. He leaned in, and her view of the column was replaced by a fall of white hair and a pair of eyes that darkened like gems, glinting, daring her to keep going.

"Make it taller."

Kia stretched the tree another three feet.

"Now shorter."

She cut it down to half size.

"Hotter," he said.

Kia sucked in a breath and stared directly into the blue of his eyes. The fire tree blazed white hot, but Evander didn't even turn to look.

"Passable." His lips moved like honey too, making soft graceful lines. "Now make it fly."

Saturday, May 7, 2016

All Aboard Flight 442 to Way-Too-Deep-Ville

I’m going to open up to you. I feel like I can trust you. You have a kind face (Flashbacks to the episode of I Love Lucy where they do “Slowly I Turn…”).

But in all seriousness: if you don’t want to get a little deep, go ahead and move on to one of my old blog posts, or one of my books. Or watch a cat on Youtube. Because today, I want to talk about the Depression, the Unfriendly Ghost (Note to self: write a children’s book about depression, maybe… probably not. But think about it.).

Okay, if you’ve made it this far, I figure you’ve made your choice and you understand what you’re getting yourself into. If at any point you wish to evacuate, emergency exits are located toward the back of the plane. I think we stocked the parachutes back up after last time. I take no responsibility if not.

Right. Putting it off. Well, it’s not fun to talk about. But I think it’s important. Especially if we run on the assumption that a writer will have some things in common with their readers, I feel like I have to say something. And I have to say something for myself. I like to be honest with you guys, and it’s time to unload a double-barreled shotgun full of honesty.

I’ve dealt with depression and anxiety since I was in middle school. It wasn’t because of some singular traumatic event or anything like that. It rarely is, at least as far as the people I’ve talked to. Not to say never. I don’t discount anyone’s experience with this kind of thing, because that’s annoying as fuck and totally not my place.

But yeah. I’ve dealt with these issues for quite some time, now. And you learn how to work around them in a lot of ways. I wasn’t always so good at it, obviously. I still have cutting scars on my wrists, though they’re mostly faded. It’s been a while, which is its own victory, for me.

The thoughts don’t go away. I’d like to be able to tell you that I haven’t considered self-harm in years. That would make me feel more accomplished. And up until a few weeks ago, I could have said exactly that. But it snuck up on me. That’s what no one tells you about depression. It sneaks up on you. If you could see it coming, you could maybe try to head it off at the pass. It probably wouldn’t work, but you could try (I should note, though, this is only my experience. It could very well be different for someone else.).

I don’t know if it was before Norwescon, during Norwescon, or after Norwescon. What I do remember is feeling really edgy when I was actually at the con. It was toward the end of the con, so I figured it was just me dealing with way too many people without a break. Which I went in expecting. And I was away from home longer thanks to the weather (Had to go over the Cascade Mountains to get between there and here, and it snowed. Like, it snowed a foot in a few hours.).

The very first thing I did when I got back home was completely clean my room. Clear off the floor, wash all my bedding. Make it look nice and neat and comfortable. And then I holed up in there for three weeks without even realizing it

If you’ve been through depression, you might very well be nodding your head. It’s not an uncommon story. It’s hard to do anything when you’re in the middle of it, even just getting up and leaving the room. I did it to eat and that’s about it. I didn’t even work during that span. I couldn’t. I watched Youtube videos for hours, slept a lot… and that was all. That is one good luxury of working from home. I was able to. I don’t know if it was helpful or harmful, mind you. Maybe if I had to get up and go to work, it would have been better. Or it would have been worse. I can’t say. That’s not how things went.

So about the three week mark, I realized it had been three weeks, and that I hadn’t actually seen, like, sunlight, in that long. Certainly not people. I wasn’t online. I just… wasn’t. And it’s one of the scariest things when you know that you’re feeling this way, and you know that it’s entirely irrational, but you can’t stop it. Because that’s what happens. You’re fully aware that this is ridiculous and without cause, but it still sits on your chest so you can’t get out from under it.

Even after I realized what was happening, it’s taken me several more weeks to fully pull myself free from the Swamp of Sadness (Stupid horse…). Part of that’s because some things just really have fallen badly (Found a tumor on the dog, for one.), and part of it’s because I was so damned deep into it again, without even realizing it. It’s super easy to fall into a hole. It’s a lot harder to scrabble your way out.

Why share what is objectively not a happy story? It’s not for sympathy or anything like that. I wanted to put it out there, because I think that sometimes, we need to know that other people are going through it, too. I think that’s one of the most comforting things that can happen. Knowing that you’re not the only one who has to decipher this mess. And you can know it intellectually, look at the statistics and everything, but maybe one thing that a specific person says will actually click. Maybe me. Maybe Chuck Wendig. Maybe someone else. Maybe not an author, but a celebrity. Maybe a blogger with one follower who you’ll never read again. But they aid exactly what you needed to hear to know that you aren’t alone.

It helps, it really does. And while I don’t assume that I’m going to be that one for anyone out there, if there’s a chance that I might? I can’t sit here and not talk about it. Because depression is a real problem, no matter what anyone else thinks. It’s not a matter of just cheering or just doing something. It’s pulling teeth until you get yourself out of it, and maybe you don’t. That’s the worst part, always, is “Maybe you don’t.” or your friend doesn’t. Or your favorite cousin. Your aunt. Your father. Whoever. It’s scary. Depression is scary. It’s not frightening or terrifying or any of that. It’s baseline, down deep in the core of you, scary. No better word for it in my opinion. Just scary. No pretenses or trying to filter it or gussy it up.

It’s scary, and I get it, and if you do happen to be reading this and you’re there right now, I hope it helps. And I hope you can wriggle away from it. And I hope you have someone to talk to, when you’re ready for that. And if not, talk to me. I’ll answer.

Deepness is over and the plane is landing. So tata for now.