I don’t know why, but I do know I’ve got zero creative energy to write fiction. I’m going to take a stab in the dark as to why I’m not in a fiction writing mood.

I was on Twitter without any fiction work back in 2020-2021. Maybe it was just 2021 that I’m remembering, but I digress. I created a website and wrote 95,000 words of creative non-fiction in four months, give or take a few days. I offended a family member, and erased the entire thing. I thought, “shit-who else have I or might I offend?”. That made me paranoid as all get out.

I regret deleting that entire website. I had some great material that is now forever gone. Not my finest moment in my personal timeline.

I tried grad school, and that didn’t work out. Which was a major crush to my self-esteem, since I had a fellow classmate go all Karen on my ass, made a sexual harassment claim against me. Had a lawyer reach out.

I had my father, who has been a lawyer for thirty years, read the email exchange between myself and this student. He is a cold blooded attorney, void of emotional attachment, and even he said, “there’s nothing remotely sexual about this”. Oh yeah, and “some” of the faculty was concerned. Give me a break. Of course it was the professors I was working with, and they couldn’t really hide their disdain for me.

That was probably one of the shittiest accusations thrown my way. In fact, I’d say up to this point in life that has got to be THEE SHITTIEST accusation against me. I know I’m an intense guy- and thus might be perceived as an asshole. I can at least understand that- I see how I can come across as an asshole at times, and I’m not going to argue anyone on that accusation. But to call me a sexual predator? Fuck off, seriously.

I hopped back on Twitter mid 2022, or something, and found splatterpunk. I got really doped out and high on splatterpunk for a minute. I’m still a fan of the sub-genre, but it’s not what I’m going for in my writing. I kinda thought it might be my thing, but not quite.

While I do enjoy writing disturbing material that tries to reflect the monstrous nature of unwell individuals, it’s too much for me to do on a regular basis. In fact, I need to focus more on the hero, the protagonist. At least for this current fiction project.

I guess the last part of why I’m hesitant to write fiction is because I don’t value my fiction writing that much. I do believe that if I can push out the first fiction novel, it might be easier to get into a fictional groove, so to speak. Maybe not, though.

I find it much easier to write creative non-fiction, currently. Which is a bummer, in some ways. I’m not making money, nor do I know how to, from readers on this website. I have to set up an account with stripe, and that shit wants me to verify that I’m a business, which isn’t true. I’m not selling goods. I’m sharing thoughts and ideas.

Oh well. I’m upset now, because I’m winded, and so I’m going to take a hit from my bong.

See ya next time,

Philip