I’m walking a fine line between happiness and madness at the moment. They say fortune favours the brave and although I am not sure I am actually being that brave, I’m striking out for (fools?) gold again in the writing department. Having written over 2800 blogposts since 2014, god knows how many articles for the Bristol Rovers matchday programme ‘The Pirate’ since 1999, a year long column on the Rovers for the wonderful Bristol 24/7 and more recently a book, you might think, given my obvious lack of success, I might call it a day. But no. As I near the end of yet more therapy to try to deal with my depression and anxiety, I’m giving it everything.
This blogpost is little more than a rewrite of recent blogs where I have described my journey to a better place. There have been a few setbacks along the way, a few relapses into the dark but more often than not, I feel much stronger. I know that when I start to feel stronger, I am prone to taking my eye off the ball, but sod it: I can’t give up now.
Bristol 24/7’s republishing of a sweary piece I wrote on the Bristol Arena, or rather the likely lack of one, has restored the quality of my writing to, roughly, where it was about two years ago. I am hugely grateful to B24/7 for giving my work some publicity (even if I didn’t get any money, which is surely the true definition of success for a writer).
I’m a little bit embarrassed by the sweariness (this is not a real word, I suspect) of my Arena piece, something which was noted by a local Tory councillor who agreed, unsurprisingly, with my pop at Bristol’s failing mayor Marvin Rees. I would like to think she agreed with my piece which was generally non-political but I do wonder, in these dark, cynical times, whether she might have an eye on the next mayoral election. Still, any endorsement is, I suppose, better than none.
I am writing an industrial amount of copy right now, In fact, I am eating, drinking, sleeping and dream ing about my writing, to the extent that I really did dream last night what one of my next books is going to be about. The dream was so vivid, I had to ask my long-suffering partner whether it happened in a dream or if I had discussed it with her.
As a writer, I never made it, I probably won’t ever make it. However, this is my final shot and it’s going to last until the day I die.