Thorn Wilde

Thank you. I think only you can tell the story you want to tell, you know?

Neil Gaiman once wrote, in response to angry A Song of Ice and Fire fans demanding the next book in the series, 'George R. R. Martin is not your bitch.' Much like getting attacked on Twitter, I think alienating readers is proof that you're doing something right, if that makes any sense. You've pushed someone's buttons, made them think or feel in some way, even if it was negative. I have alienated multiple readers because of artistic choices I have made, and the same artistic choices have kept many more on the edges of their seats. And that's fine. People don't have to read my books, they have every right in the world to put them down and go do something else. Lord knows I have. (Full disclosure: I find Lord of the Rings dreadfully boring and never made it past the third chapter.) Life is too short to read books you don't like. Some people didn't like all the swearing in The Jacob & Marcus Tales and stopped reading. Some people didn't like what I put my characters through in Nemesis. And I'm sure I've lost lots of readers who never said anything, simply put down the book, and moved on. But then some readers become angry. They feel entitled to have the story move in the direction they wanted it to. They claim ownership of someone else's creative labours. I will happily receive constructive criticism of my work. And I love hearing and reading what people think of what I write. I think it's wonderful that we can have this kind of interaction, that you and I can communicate about the things we write. But no one has the right to dictate what I should write, just like I have no right to dictate anyone else's work. And it's all in the delivery; some people are just rude. I firmly believe that art is a dialogue between artist and audience, but the artist still has final say. The thing is, I don't write for you. I write for me, and I share it with you just in case you might like it. That, I think, is what most writers do, certainly most good ones. Often when I write, the story and the characters take me in a completely different direction from what I thought they would, and that creates richer stories for me to write. I will never compromise my artistic vision to make people like me. I write what I want, what the story wants, and if people like it, that's great. If they don't, they can stop reading. But don't yell at me for my story moving in a direction you didn't anticipate. For lack of a better phrase, that's a dick move. So, dear reader, just to clarify: I am not your bitch.

I'm sorry you feel that way. As an author, I write the stories that I want to tell. Often, they don't go the way I thought they would. If people like my stories, then that's great. But I don't write for you. I write for me. And I will never, ever sacrifice my own artistic vision to make people like me. Neil Gaiman said it best when he told some angry A Song of Ice and Fire fans, 'George R. R. Martin is not your bitch.' And that goes for all writers. As a reader, you have no right to tell me what I should or should not write. I will happily take constructive criticism as regards my craft, but my artistic choices are my own, and the tone of your comment is decidedly rude. So pardon me for not mourning the loss of your readership.

My hands shook. I couldn’t seem to breathe properly, or think, the events of the last half hour playing in my head over and over, in fast forward motion. I sat on a bench in the schoolyard, staring at the ground. Break was almost over. I couldn’t go back to class, couldn’t look him in the eye, Daniel. How could I ever look at him again, after what we’d done? ‘I’m not queer, I’m not queer, I’m not queer . . .’ If I repeated my mantra often enough, in my head or out loud, it would become t

Yeah, Matt and Alan are basically my favourites. Don't know if you've read their short stories in Hubris, but if you haven't, you should, if you like these two. More insight into their relationship. Also planning on giving them another short story, cause they deserve at least that. If I wasn't working on so many other things, I'd write them a whole novel.

I've tried my best to give this angsty cloud a few silver linings occasionally. Glad you're still enjoying it in spite of that. And yeah, Matt and Alan have become downright adorable, and I love them for it.

Nick is definitely digging himself into a hole right now. Thanks for continuing to read my story! And for your insightful comments.

CHAPTER FOUR Rob the Bank ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ said Dave’s Mum, giving him a hug. Her husband was already at the car, looking rather annoyed at being kicked out of his own home. ‘Have fun tomorrow.’ ‘Thanks,’ said Dave. ‘Have a good trip.’ ‘Bye, Aunt Abigail,’ said Mellie, hugging her as well, and then they were gone. Mellie turned to Dave. ‘Having your mum for an ally has its perks, eh?’ Dave smiled. ‘They were certainly easier to convince than last year.

Part of my morning jam.

Perfectly understandable. Loz is a right bastard.

Halloween has become a big thing in Norway. We even get trick-or-treaters now, that so wasn't a thing when I was a kid...

It was rough, but knowing is definitely a step forward.

This was beautiful. Thank you!

CHAPTER THREE Ashtray Heart ‘Dave!’ Mandira flung her arms around his neck and gave him the tightest hug she ever had before. ‘Oh my God, I missed you! Did you have an okay summer?’ Dave hugged her back with a chuckle. ‘Yeah, it was all right. You?’ ‘Went to India,’ she said with distaste, letting go. ‘Hot as hell, and Mum spent the entire time trying to find my future husband. And my Punjabi sucks, so . . .’ ‘Hey, better than being stuck at a vineyard in Tuscany with m

What interesting predictions! Only time will tell if you're right. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thank you!

Yeah, they're not in a great place right now, that's for sure. Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts!

It's been rough, yeah. But when I stopped taking those meds it was like my mind opened up and I could breathe again.

It really, really does. Thank you!

I'd almost forgotten I even had this blog. Figure, since I'm back, it's time I post something again, so I thought I might talk a bit about why I've been gone for so long and what's up with my mental health situation, which is a lot, actually. First of all, I've been on some medication for the past five years that eventually sapped me of all my creativity. I've been virtually unable to write for over two years, only managing to pen the odd scene or jot down a plot idea here and there, which is really fucking inconvenient for me, because writing is such a big part of who I am. I quit taking those meds this summer, and immediately, the ideas began to flow, and I got the urge to write, and I literally couldn't help but do so. Add to that my current hypomania, and this explains why I just wrote a 60k word novel in three weeks. I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder back in January. For years, I've been carrying around a major depressive disorder diagnosis, and though I've been in constant therapy during that time, it took them that long to realise what was actually wrong with me. Having the correct diagnosis is a blessing. Finally, I understand why I am the way I am. I can look back at things I've done and understand why I did them (such as the time I decided out of the blue that, to hell with the music and the writing, I want to be an astrophysicist! It was a resounding failure, obviously, as I don't even know maths). I now recognise hypomania. I understand that my depressive episodes are triggered by stress (as are my hypomanic ones). I understand what's going on in my brain and my body when I feel a certain way. And I'm on the right medication, finally. One that doesn't utterly murder my creativity. I was gone for such a long time because I couldn't write, and being here reminded me that I couldn't write. It reminded me of how shitty I felt about that, and I felt ashamed and embarrassed for not managing to finish my stories. Now, that's no longer the case. Now, I'm finishing everything. And I feel so good about it. I know I might crash at any time. Hopefully when I do, my medication will prevent me from crashing too hard. And hopefully, as has been the case during depressive episodes before I started on those fucking meds, I will be able to continue to write through it. I really hope I will. And I want to make myself stick around here, too, no matter my mental state, because honestly, I've really missed this place, and all the people here, and some of them have even disappeared while I've been gone and that breaks my heart. Still, I'm here now. And I'm not planning on going anywhere.

I hope so too. Thankfully, Michael has a way of getting people to trust him. He's just one of those people.

Loz is very complex, that's for sure.

I pushed open the door, and saw Daniel in the bathtub. He was crouched down, hugging himself and rocking back and forth. I grabbed a blue terrycloth towel off a hook on the wall and knelt next to the tub. I turned off the shower, draped the towel across his shoulders, and helped him out and onto the floor. Sobbing uncontrollably, he clung desperately to me, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. With Daniel naked, I noticed the bruises around his wrists. He seemed otherwise phy

Thank you so much, as ever, for your kind words. What interesting parallels you always draw. I'm so happy that you continue to enjoy my work. I always look forward to your comments!

Thank you for reading it. It's probably one of the most difficult and painful things I have ever written. I had to take a lot of breaks, and by the end of it I was pretty much crying and hating myself. I felt like it was a story that needed to be told, though.