T.M. Shannon

Hi everyone,

Well, September went quick, and now its October in Sydney, it’s time for daylight savings.

As expected, there’s bemused Queenslanders sticking to Eastern Standard Time, and I know people had a cry at clocks going forward an hour. Me? Maybe I can park myself in the backyard for some evening writing sessions, my conditions and the Ritalin drop-out permitting.

But I did get a short story done, as you’ll see in the link below. I was going to submit it, but the lit mag is closed until November, and being a light, for me story, it’s for the best. I’ll let the Short Story page speak of that, but I got past imposter syndrome and anxiety to put it up. Yay me!

And with not much else to say in this bit, I’m gonna dive right in.

A Dose of Writing Ups and Downs

Yep, I’m still pecking away at the WIP, and progress is still slow.

I was hoping to finish this draft in November, but good thing that was a loose deadline because I’ll sail right by it, and you know what? I’m not fussed. No regrets, no self-admonishment, just acceptance of my Bipolar/ADHD brokenness, and that I’m still doing very good work.

In fact, I did my best work pecking out the two impactful scenes at the end of part one, and boy did that rile me up, had to go lie down for a bit. Except there’s a problem. I didn’t save my work, and Word crashed. Now I can enjoy the privilege (problem) of having to redo them.

Ugh!

Also, I’d missed reformatting 5 chapters since I quit Times New Roman, so I’ve been cheesed off about the book, and sunk back into Oblivion – time for an infamous playthrough involving vampirism and a Daedric Lord’s insta-kill dagger.

Also, had to churn out the blog as I wasn’t happy with what I’d written for this section, then skipped out on the next two every following weekend.

But staring down the second half of the book, I have 37 chapters to carve into 29 to 31, so about 60 chapters. I’m hoping that includes getting the WIP down to 100k words (134k currently), but not sure how many pages it’ll be given my font is larger and my line spacing bigger.

What can I say, the WIP was originally intended as two novellas, I just stuck them back-to-back to rock it standalone rather than risk the second half faltering, never mind the cliffhanger twist. But that’s such a mid-second act thing, best to keep it at one volume anyway.

So, I’ll get to the reformatting before I re-challenge the impact scenes, plod along in light of conditions, and get it done when I get it done, hopefully somewhere in Q1 2026. Then it’s off to the editor and beta readers, and I’m gonna take a break to get some reading done.

I like this plan.

A Dose of Wealth Gone Wrong

There’s been a money bent at Church recently, from the dodgy steward losing the master’s money to September 28th’s attack on wealth used for privilege while dismissing the poor.

What’s that, you ask? The rich desensitised to the basic needs of others, wealth seen as a blessing and righteousness while poverty signifies curse and condemnation was alive and well back in Jesus’ time ? Yep, and there’s a great first reading and parable against it.

First, Amos 6:4-7 takes aim at wealthy decadents lying on ivory beds and sprawled on divans, dining on the best meat, tuned into the lyre and making their own instruments, wine by the bowlful, the finest anointing oils, no figs given to Joseph’s ruin.

It gets better or worse depending on your view, because Jesus gets right to it in Luke 16:19-31.

A well-dressed man who ate well goes past poor, sore-covered Lazarus on his front steps. Lazarus dies, and is taken by angels to Abraham. The well-dressed man dies, too, and gets dragged to Hades for torment and agony.

He asks Abraham to get Lazarus to tend his thirst. Abraham tells him to get bent: “You had your fill of good things, and Lazarus his fill of bad. He is being comforted here while you’re in agony.” Abraham’s not done: “There’s a gulf stopping people crossing to the other side.”

He still wants his ends met, and asks Lazarus be sent to his brothers as a warning of decadence. Not once has he shown pity or remorse for Lazarus, and he’s doubling down. Abraham continues his bent, “Let them listen to Moses and the prophets.” Sick burn, bro.

He digs that hole even deeper, says they will repent for someone returned from the dead. Abraham’s last laugh? “If they won’t listen to Moses or the prophets, they won’t be convinced even if someone did rise from the dead.”

Ooh, boy, the 1st Century and our wealthy could do with a dose of this brutal humiliation. Are many doing charitable works? Plenty. But they’re still bent to money made at others’ expense while poverty increases as the gulf between the “blessed” and “cursed” grows.

Am I jealous of the rich? Playing the culture war? I haven’t worked hard enough? Yeah, because the working class can strike it rich in the rich world of trust funds, tax dodging (see below for a bit about that), and the means to buy access to politicians and destroy competitors.

But just seeing things back in Jesus’ time are just as bad now, if not worse, helps me realise money, privilege, power aren’t great things at all, and have for ages carved the humanity from these people, and they are if not just blind to suffering, but sickly celebrating it.

I don’t want to live in such a world, and all I can do is trudge on, and give somebody else a helping hand through charity to reach the life I have, as much as it revolves around landlords shoring up their well-being, and fight any mention of equity and equality.

A Dose of Validation

Something big happened in September, and it reminded me of how important coming out to live your authentic reality still is in our world, as much as detractors would say, “It doesn’t matter that you’re (insert identity here), you don’t need to tell everybody.” Hoo, boy, what a dismissive, phobic take.

Former West Coast Eagles AFL player Mitch Brown sat down to an interview with The Daily Aus (you can catch parts one and two here over on YouTube) and came out as bisexual. Cool, I’m represented.

In the interview, he goes into how braindead male sport is, including joking that someone without a girlfriend was gay, and it smacked me with the high school pressure I faced to get a girlfriend or be a faggot, if not copping it as I wasn’t, “Tough.” Not so cool, I’m very represented.

And then the sexuality questioning, trying to find an answer to yourself at 19-20 only to get laughed off and learning not to bring it up. Me in and after school? You wouldn’t talk about those things on the NSW Central Coast.

I know it’s doom and gloom, and my sexuality has been fraught with what people would think of me, and being a child sexual abuse survivor of 3 men. Thank goodness for the EMDR, I realised an encounter with one man would’ve gone differently, and maybe even worked out.

The silver lining was a straight-presenting bi guy who’s been in relationships with cishet women admitting their heteronormative queerness and being supported in it. Being married to a woman and respecting that union, I have that support, too.

Plus, there’s the writing, so I’m assuring and warning you now, there will be queer representation and relations.

I can’t tell you how powerful the interview was for me, and how much hope Mitch gave me. And I understood at last what somebody well-known coming out as my identity means for the once-hidden, frightened queers like me: we’re not alone.

So, it might be time for me to wear that bisexual pride flag shirt with my six pins (two are bi representative) and be myself rather than just on IDAHOBIT or Wear It Purple Day.

A Dose of Au Revoir

Yikes, that went critical and deep, my WIP moaning sure ranks a very distant second to the rest of this post. But it’s good to have light problems and concerns to balance out the heavy ones, even celebrate them as broken as you are.

For now, I’ll call it quits and let you get on with your day, don’t forget to comment, subscribe, and check out the short story, and I’ll leave you with the assurance that, sticking with Word for all my works, I’ll be spamming save like it’s Morrowind, Oblivion, or Skyrim.

Take care,

T. M.