Vocal XXIV

To put it simply, I first joined because I saw that there was a cash prize for winning stories. I had always been writing for myself but never sharing the stories with anyone. A good thing too and I still won't as they are absolutely appalling. My short stories on here are bad enough and I actively decided to publish them.

Since I joined Vocal in late 2021 so much has happened in my life. I've lived and worked in three different countries - UK, Spain and Hong Kong.

In Spain I met a woman who I thought was the love of my life, but has since dumped me. To be fair to her she was right to do so as we were drifting apart. An unfortunate reality on love, a roll of a hundred sided dice to meet a woman you connect with and then it's another roll to see if you both change too much from each other. Change is inevitable and sometimes you change too differently, or perhaps too opposing, from each other. Before her and now after her I still feel as if I have yet to improve much as a writer. I certainly haven't gotten worse, although I have put out absolute shite.

My inevitable heartbreak, I feel, is the perfect context of as to why I am here. Despite the fact that I haven't really ever published good stories, or even decent, I still believe myself. I knew that relationship wasn't going to last since around the last few months. She had the bravery to do what was needed. I had some weird faith within me. Or perhaps delusion may be the better word.

That break up lead to me writing a poem on here that won me a runner-up award, my first ever writing accolade since I was in primary school. Perhaps I should do the whole heartbreak thing more often.

I still believe that one day I will be a published author of some kind. That perhaps one day I can stop working an ordinary job and write full time. Well read mostly for research and inspirational purposes of course. Well, and mainly to read for the sake of it too, of course. Probably or most likely, but not quite certainly, a delusion. But a comforting one if that's what it is. And anyway; even just a little bit is an infinite amount more than nothing.

In Spain, perhaps due to the heat or falling in love or both, I had my biggest ever creative period in my life. I was writing a lot, reading a lot and even drawing! (I'm not a natural drawer and never really learnt how to do it) Maybe having someone to share it with helped. But there won't always be someone to share it with. I wrote a lot to impress her I guess, but rushed pretty much all of them. I'm rushing this piece too.

My first target for this year - Write for myself.

I want to write at least five or maybe six stories or poems or whatnot that I can re-read a few days, a few weeks and a few months after publishing and feel satisfied. Having someone to pretend they liked everything I wrote because they fancied me did help a lot with my confidence yes. But I should find confidence within myself, not via a surrogate who doesn't want to upset me with a few honest and painful truths. A tough one as I've never really been satisfied with anything I have ever written.

In Hong Kong I worked a very busy work week. 47 hours a week. I had so much more responsibility than I had ever had before. I was a long way from home in a noisy city in a cramped apartment with two strangers who, despite both being very friendly, I found myself being very nervous around. The night before our first day of training, I couldn't sleep. All night I just couldn't sleep. The noise mixed with my thoughts were keeping me awake. She was in the UK, everyone was in the UK and I was here, on Hong Kong Island. The bed wasn't comfortable and even after reading seven chapters of my book, I just couldn't shut my eyes. (I later had to re-read those chapters as I wasn't really reading; but thinking)

Morning came and I hadn't slept a wink of sleep. I went to the local 7/11 and bought a pack of cigarettes & a red bull. I went to training and all seemed good. Lunch time came and I had another red bull. Then another break, another red bull. I still remember the exact moment. One sip of a half empty can and that was it. My felt my blood get colder, my hands shaking and my teeth chattering. I vision somehow became easier without my glasses, the blurs were somehow less clear and thus less intimidating. Eventually I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and I shook and shook and shook.

I had, what I believe was, a panic attack, in front of my peers, in front of a higher up in the company, in front of fucking everyone. I felt so embarrassed. No, humiliated. I had never judged someone for having a panic attack until that day.

A few months later and I was working well. I was living in the much quieter New territories region in a place just outside of Yuen Long. I was loving the work - which by the way was teaching English - and I was comfortable around all of the new people. I was sleeping well and all around in a much better place than where I was not so long ago. I wasn't alone anymore, but I never told a single one of my housemates that I had a panic attack.

I didn't get much time to write, but when I did, I realised something about my writing. I shared a story with her that I wrote for Vocal. It was about a panic attack. I had told her about it and she was happy to read the story. She was a lot more honest than she used to be. She said the story wasn't honest.

I read and re-read it time and time again, hating it more and more as I read it. She was right, it wasn't honest. For starters, why the fuck was the main character a South African woman? I'm not a south African woman.

It made me analyse not just this abysmal story I introduced into the world, but everything I had written on here. I realised something, I write a lot of female protagonists. I think it's because the characters I write always have a bit of me inside them and there are things about myself that I am too much of a coward to face. I think I make a lot of characters women to disconnect myself from them. (Not all of the time, the latest story I rushed out has a character who I based on a friend years ago) (Extra bracket to say not the corrupt nature of her but rather, well I don't know I just imagine her face and voice when she speaks. But the personalities are very different)

Back to the point.

My second target for this year - Be more honest with the stories.

I need to more honest. It's hard to explain what I mean by this, but I feel that all writers need to insert honesty in their stories, otherwise it'll just fall flat. I'm not saying I'll stop having women in my stories, far from it as I find women more interesting storytelling wise for reasons I don't know. When I read alone with you in the either, as much as I loved Aldo Damini's chapters, I just always loved Charlotte Regan's chapters a lot more. Even though I related a lot more with Aldo. (Not the maths genius bit, I can just about do my times tables)

Back in the UK where I currently am. I'll be off to Poland soon. I wanted to be close to home whilst still travelling. Because this nation has a severe lack of critical thinking skills it decided to leave the EU. Now to work in Europe you need a work visa. There are two ways of doing this, either via Meddas in Spain where they pay you peanuts, charge you over a thousand euros and only accept you if you're within 5 years of graduating, I graduated in 2019, or alternatively you can work in Poland.

(Earlier when I mentioned that I was in Spain, it wasn't under a work visa)

I hope Poland will be a great base to travel around more of central Europe. I also hope the job pays well, as it's contractor based. I could end up only working for 2 hours a day or 8, and I'm only getting paid if I actually work. If I don't get paid well, then I won't be able to pay the rent, let alone travel. But not being able to travel is such a first world problem that I shouldn't complain.

I felt that that was very boring to read. It was all telling and no showing. I feel that I make that mistake a lot in my writing. I'll spend an entire paragraph telling the reader useless information.

My third goal for this year - Less telling, more showing

Hopefully this is something I can abide by. I shall do a quick practise. So instead of she was scared, I need to remind myself to write like this instead -

He looked from side to side, up and down the dark foggy road. His knees trembled at a faster pace than he could manage, a cold sweat was somehow running down his back. he wasn't blinking, his eyes wide open and his ears pricked up. He could feel himself breathing fast, so he tried to gain a better control over his breathing, but he still needed to breathe with his mouth rather than with his nose. A noise. He turned her head toward it but saw... nothing, still the darkness.

(This writing is an example of a first draft, I won't edit it here to make it read any better as it's only meant to be a template... and I can't be arsed)

Overall, I want to read this hastily put together article that I'm currently writing at two in the morning and think yea... yea I got at least one of them! But most importantly, I feel that all three of these goals connect to a greater overall goal. I think of writing as an art and like all art it's crucial to always look to improve.

But more importantly I need to use my life experiences; my emotions; my tears and my smiles; every regret and every glad decision; every boring day; every horrific day and every phenomenal day. They should all improve my art. I don't want any of these things listed above to influence me into a cruel person. I don't want them to make me a coward. I don't want them to me apathetic to everything.

I want them help craft my art; to make me a better writer and; more importantly; a better and kinder man. Heartbreak left me a broken man, but it lead to first ever accolade. My panic attack left me embarrassed, but it lead to discovering one of my biggest writing flaws. The boredom of waiting for life to start getting interesting, led me to research more about writing.

I hope that one day I can have the perfect reason for owning so many notebooks. If you took the time to read this, than thank you very much.