I’ve been writing stories for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I filled notebooks with horror tales, fantasy adventures, and pulpy sci-fi, usually scribbled in a frenzy of inspiration before moving on to the next idea. I was a D&D-obsessed, book-devouring monster, inhaling sword-and-sorcery, science fiction, and horror at an alarming rate. My first “novel” was a handwritten sword-and-planet epic scrawled in two five-subject spiral notebooks when I was twelve. It was, of course, terrible—but now, decades later, I wish I’d kept it. There’s something raw and unfiltered about those early attempts, a kind of creative fearlessness that adulthood often bleeds out of us.
In my teens and twenties, I kept writing, mostly in manic bursts—short stories, half-finished novels, fragments of weird fiction that never quite cohered. I completed a lot of short fiction but left behind a graveyard of abandoned novels, some of which got close to the finish line before I lost steam. A few of those half-realized ideas, dusted off and rewritten, are now the foundation of the Grindhouse Horror novels I’m publishing today.
But here’s the thing: I was always my own worst enemy when it came to writing. I was self-conscious, hesitant to submit work consistently, and when it came to novels, I’d obsess over every scene, every sentence, until the whole thing felt like a chore. First drafts were (and still are) a joy—pure, unfiltered creation. But second drafts? They felt like punishment. I’d finish a manuscript knowing it needed revision, only to burn out before I could make it shine. The result? A pile of almost-there projects and the nagging sense that I wasn’t pushing hard enough.
Why I Stopped (And Why I’m Back Now)
Life happens. Work, responsibilities, distractions—they all pile up. For a while, I told myself I didn’t have time to write, or that it wasn’t worth the effort. But the truth is, I missed it. Not the stress of trying to be perfect, not the frustration of unfinished drafts, but the sheer act of making something. The rush of a new idea. The satisfaction of a scene unfolding exactly as I’d imagined it.
So, I’m back. And this time, I’m doing things differently.
How I’m Making It Stick
Writing Fast, Editing Later
- I used to labor over every paragraph, ensuring it was “good” before moving forward. Now? I blast through first drafts at high speed, embracing the mess. I can fix a bad page, but I can’t fix a blank one.
Multiple Projects, No Guilt
- If I get stuck or bored, I switch to something else—another novel, a short story, whatever keeps the words flowing. No more agonizing over a single project until I hate it. I’ll post more on this later, but for me, having a bunch of projects going at the same time has been key to getting stuff done.
Embracing Imperfection
- Not every story needs to be a masterpiece. Some are just for fun. Some exist to sharpen my skills. Others might surprise me and turn into something great. The key is to keep creating.
Submitting More, Worrying Less
- Rejection used to paralyze me. Now? It’s part of the game. I send work out, forget about it, and move on to the next thing.
Remembering Why I Started
- I write because I love monsters, mayhem, and weird tales. Because there’s a thrill in crafting a sentence that makes a reader’s skin crawl. Because even after all these years, nothing beats the rush of a new idea taking shape.
If You’re Coming Back Too…
Maybe you’ve been away from writing for a while. Maybe you’ve got a folder full of half-finished drafts or a voice in your head saying you’ll never finish anything. Here’s the good news: None of that matters. What matters is that you start again.
Write something terrible. Write something short. Write the pulpiest, goriest, most ridiculous thing you can think of—just to remind yourself how fun it can be. Don’t worry about being “good.” Worry about being done.
The stories aren’t going to write themselves. So grab a notebook, open a blank document, and dive back in.
I’ll see you in the dark.