Merriam-Webster defines humectant as “a substance that promotes retention of moisture”. For me, that directly correlates to my writing. I use my writing not only as a cathartic tool but also as a humectant. I’ve lost count of how many times writing has saved me from drowning in tears, dwelling on fears and shortcomings, and falling in that awful black void that is depression at its most heinous. Writing continues to be a boon in helping me to work through problems using introspection and metaphor. I couldn’t say how many times writing has, in an actual literal sense, saved my life.

My original intention for this blog was to give myself deadlines and as a method of working on better writing discipline, as well as somewhere to direct potential readers when they ask to see some of my writing. I wanted to start a blog to have a readily accessible chunk to show prospective publishers. I think, perhaps, it goes way beyond that now.

“Words have no power to impress the mind
without the exquisite horror of their reality.”

So many people write blogs about their very private and personal lives. They freely bare the inner workings of their minds and/or households. Perhaps my blog isn’t so very different, except in the case of subject matter. I am deemed a tragic poet by many of my peers, and I’ve held that title for more years than I care to divulge.

In recent years, however, I’ve come to understand that it is not necessarily a bad thing to be a tragic poet, as long as one knows how to make the work interesting to the average others and without too much self-absorption (when writing for more than oneself).

I’ve discovered the trick, or rather my version of it, is in the combined use of imagery, metaphor, and just the right amount of ambiguous mystery, meshed with the very raw human condition to which so many of us can relate, and with the writing kept broad enough for open interpretation whilst remaining true to oneself in the definite and obvious comparisons to one’s own reality. That may sound convoluted, and in a way it is, but necessarily so. Such is my way, and yes I speak like this in daily life. Put more directly, if you look close at any tragic poem or story that appeals to you, there you will find something of yourself within, something of the darkling part of you, and you will discover that the author knew you without ever knowing.

That is what this blog is about–the human condition, through my perspective, and that ambiguous little snark I call personal reality. You may expect much of this site to be dark, but don’t expect it to be full of self-pity. Only in darkness can we truly appreciate the light. I know who I am. I chose my domain name well.

“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us,
and sometimes, they win.” –Stephen King