Suggested Audio Candy:

 

Andrew Gold “Thank You For Being a Friend”

 

Sometimes the tiniest little seemingly insignificant gesture can mean so much. I have been bowled the hell over recently by the amount of love y’all have been showing my work, particularly my fiction. I sit there scrolling through my feed, utterly dumbfounded by such kindness and every sweet gesture means so very much. I’ve been a scribe now for around eighteen months and, in that time, I have endeavored to learn and perfect my craft as, up until recently, I never really made a full fist of anything. Writing is where I am at my happiest, where I can allow my imagination to soar. Until last year it all remained under lock and key but, since starting my pilgrimage under my pseudonym Keeper, the floodgates have been opened in spectacular style. Now, I barely wake up in the morning before some harebrained scheme pops up in my cranium. As you will be aware, this fluctuates wildly depending on a number of factors. If time is at a premium then I bust out a little poetry, never my comfort zone. If I feel that I have something meaningful to say then I may choose to be introspective, feel geeky: scribe an appraisal and, if I’m at the top of my tree, swinging by my tail wild and free, then fiction becomes my priority.

Considering that so much of my work right now is fictitious, that speaks volumes for my current state of mind. So much love and support comes my way and, moreover, appreciation for my hard work that I spend a large proportion of my time wearing a smile where, previously, all manner of demons set upon me in these quieter moments. However, while writing has been my therapy for so long, it is now beginning to transmogrify. I don’t need it any more, to stay one step ahead of the reaper I mean. Instead I want it, more than anything I want to bring others joy. So, when I see the fruition of my endeavor every time I wake up the blue bird, it really warms my cockles. I do this because I love it so, it is the only facet of my life which truly gives me pleasure, outside of personal relationships and fatherhood of course. It’s who I am and, more critically, who I was darned well intended to be. Praise will never EVER go to my head as one can’t have all that insight without applying some to oneself. I know the pitfalls of believing the hype and it is an art form like any other if you approach with the correct mindset. In a recent piece I admitted to a few things that most would prefer I didn’t. This wasn’t to shock, well maybe just an ickle bit but in a kind way, more to show that beneath my nom de plume resides a placid, well-meaning and, above all, grounded individual who just wants to spread some rainbows.

Rivers of Grue is constantly evolving. As y’all already know, audio now plays a significant part in relaying the mood of the piece but I regularly revisit older articles and give them a spring clean as often they are in dire need for such. October last year I was a confused mess of a person, hardly even that, I was algae. No belief, no hope, no fucking clue what I was writing. I urge y’all to take a look in the archives for October 2013 as it showcases exactly what folks’ kindness can create. Back then I believed I had nobody, even though there was a vast social network sitting up and taking notice. If I’m honest it wasn’t you it was me; I was buckled and fast deteriorating, needing to witness the core of my personal hell first hand before anyone else could hope to drag me back. I needed to reach deep to find my inner place as it is where my prose originates. From the offset of my recovery, I attempted to harness whatever the hell it was that was driving me forth and that took a fair few months too. I would slide up and down my depression scale willy nilly and, from feeling like Road Runner one minute, I would be Wile E just moments later, treading oxygen just shy of cliff-side safety. It’s quite a drop, I can tell you. That white puff of smoke which denotes my Earthbound arrival may not seem like much but, when your teeth are shattering against your skullcap at 200 MPH it can really boom shake shake.

Being part of a project like the one I recently undertook in Los Angeles really helped me to visualize where I wanted to be. My fiction is key as I want to create for the screen also, there I can offer all the visual and audio aid your hearts desire. I know I can do it, having dipped in my toes with The Orphan Killer: Bound X Blood I understand the format and process better. Now I just need to sit down and start the damn thing. It takes me time to pluck up the courage to commence as here I can constantly share my prose whereas a screenplay requires that veil of secrecy and that doesn’t come natural. Nevertheless, put it off as I may, I am determined to continue learning about myself as a scribe and applying any tweaks to my style to bring it closer to a reality. I shall let you in on a little Keeper Nugget by offering this crunchy carrot of inside information. By January I aim to have a screenplay in place and be hard at work on two more also. All shall be collaborative efforts as I want this journey to be shared with those I greatly respect and love. By letting you guys in on that, I lay the gauntlet down unto myself. Lying is something I swore never to do as Keeper and letting folk down something I desperately try to avoid at any costs. I simply have to do this, in horror I have found my home, and in all of you I have my roommates, my confidants, my friends, my family.

Often the internet is deemed as an evil plot to overthrow humanity, run by the tyrannous and followed by the gluttonous. What I have learned here is that, if approached right, it is so much more. It provides the opportunity for connection and that is all within your control. You find those fellow souls which get you and cling on for dear life, at least that’s how it plays out for me. I’m not going to make this a name-dropping exercise but Peter and Alicia, thank you for being with me this whole time. You’ve never stopped believing in me, encouraging me, cheering my ass up, and offering unconditional love, something I love to practice. Since the very first day that I spread my Twitter wings you two beautiful people have been perched on my beak, feeding me tasty morsels. There are numerous others too but every last one of you know who you are as I rarely miss an act of kindness. Occasionally the blue bird has a tendency to conceal tweets for its own sick amusement and sometimes it all just moves a touch fast for my gibbon-like brain but I get the general gist. Working non-stop for nigh-on sixteen hours of the day can leave me so drained by the time I post that I haven’t any words left to hand around. However, I will say this, if I were standing directly before y’all, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. I’d tell every last one of you how precious you are to me.

One thing which really fills my buttercup is when I adopt historical tourettes and begin relaying some of the vile acts I have been a part of over the years, nothing ominous, but plenty mortifying. None of you cast judgement and that allows me to speak with the purest intention, from the most honest place. I want folk to accept me warts and all and do so at the risk of alienating those of a weaker disposition or with a little more class than I have been known to possess. I’m a manchild, unashamedly so, which means that the adolescent inside is still very much alive and kicking hard. Excuse me any discrepancies and you will be left with the simplest kind of soul. I wish no harm on anyone, wish only to enrich others’ lives and not complicate them. It’s already such a minefield, lots going on which is out of our control, plenty more waiting to become that way. I’m not interested in prophecizing doom or spreading vitriol, but I am more than ready to pass around these delightful home-baked scones I made for y’all. They’ll slide down lovely with a cup of tea you know.

I have delights lined up every day to Halloween and already pieces have been scribed to drop early November. The archives are constantly updating and soon everything will be a little more accessible. Recently, with the stunning commitment of particular souls who spread the word so selflessly, a new release has begun to feel like an event as such. This is something which pleases me like punch as I just love a good shindig. I want to be involved, bring a tray of macaroons, kick my shoes off and throw my keys in the bowl. Being part of something so wondrous with so many people I admire, no I didn’t stutter, admire; makes every last thing I do worthwhile. My reasons for harboring admiration are simple; the way that you conduct yourselves, whether in-person or online, speaks volumes about your character and I truly consider myself blessed to have formed such inimitable bonds with those from all different walks of life. Man, woman, gay, straight, black, white, chubby or withered; it don’t matter to me. As long as you have a heart, sorry Tin Man you’ll have to sit this one out, then you get to learn the secret handshake. It’s that easy. Even if you’re a droid then I may allow you to climb over my firewall from time to time. Just don’t go digging around my recycle bin.

Anyhoots, I just wanted to share that with you. The future is looking rosy right now, Rivers of Grue represents something more than a casual drop-in. It is a home, I decorate as much as humanly possible just to get it ready for your arrival. It is always going to be a work in progress as that’s just the perfectionist in me; I wish to improve, learn every day, and share my findings with those interested in hearing them. I pledged myself to the cause from day dot and that will never change. I shall be a scribe until the day I pass beyond, that has been my solemn oath all along. It’s where I belong…home. But you can’t call a house a home without someone to share that with. The worldwide web provides billions upon billions of fuses to spark from and that is a most beautiful thing. I’m going to quit while I’m ahead as the last thing I need right now is to get too gushy; it seems like the perfect way to leave things and I don’t know whether my laptop can withstand water damage after what I’ve put it through the last few months. I close by tipping my quill to every last Gruehead out there in our fine multiverse; gosh darn it, thanks!

Read Breaking The Cycle: Return Leg