R-E-S-P-E-C-T Doesn’t Mean a Thing to Me

You came to the right neighborhood, friend.

A lot of updates this week for those who aren’t in the loop.  Where oh where oh where do I begin?

Facebook has slapped me with a shadowban.  I can’t be sure of the exact reason, but suffice it to say that they will not advertise the vast majority of content I post, and moreover, they throttle any organic impressions that my content does produce on its own.  This means that the Facebook platform is now next to useless for me.  We’re looking into alternatives–like Goodreads, for example–but it possesses some similar shortcomings alongside some interesting potential.  The lesson learned from all this is that I need to draw readers to this, my website.  It’s here that I can determine what constitutes acceptable language and whatever in the nine hells is suppose to be “provocative.”  To that end, my Facebook page will remain merely to function as a lighthouse to guide potential users to the subscribe menu on this website.  Goodreads I cannot indicate yet for certain.  There’s also Tumblr and Wattpad, but I know even less about those platforms.

Aside from all of this, I’ve been working on world building.  Some of you have already seen chapters of the serial entitled “Sword of the Saints: Sinner,” and there’s going to be a lot more of that.  There’s so much more that I’ve got another book in its final stages of production, more or less just waiting to be announced.  Exciting.  Moreover, I’m doing the groundwork for a sequel to the first Sword of the Saints serial.  At this point, it’s diagramming the arc of the story, which I consider to be part two of a trilogy, but I’ve had to stop a little short.  I realized I had not done near enough world building.  As such, I’ve been exploring new territory in my research as a writer.  I’ve been doing cartography and collecting notes on the world I’ve built.  I never realized how useful map-building would be.

This week has been bad for me.  I have several competing personal problems that I cannot resolve easily, and probably not fully until next week.  In addition, this Facebook disaster hit the fan.  You may not be aware, but Facebook was my predominant means of marketing.  To lose it so suddenly is catastrophic.  I put a year of my life [and money] into that whathaveyou that I can’t get back.  In addition to that, I’ve been on and off miserable with sickness for nearly two months.  It’s funny, I recently provided advice to aspiring writers that they stop to take care of their health occasionally.  I should follow my own advice.

Anyways, that’s all I should probably relate at this juncture.  Below are just some thoughts I was rattling off when I was too nervous to do any useful work.

I was told as a child–in fact it was something of a teacher’s mantra–that I was to respect.  Exactly the object of that respect was never exactly laid bare.  I was six.  I didn’t care.

When I grew older, I heard time and time again that respect is something earned.  It made rather more sense; let’s be honest.  Anything worth a damn has to be earned.  Anything given freely is probably a soft sell.  No such thing as a free lunch; you get the idea.

When I got a little older, a friend of mine reiterated the point, but he meant it somewhat differently.  I was always nice to everyone, and yet I never received any respect.  I didn’t understand how my friendly demeanor won me no friends at all, or at least no-one worth being called friends.

Someone was misleading me.

I began a little experiment, something I’d never done before; I hadn’t been a violent child.  When given the opportunity–a fool disrespecting me–I just beat the dumb shit out of him.  In spite of the angry stares I received for a few months from more than a few people, they gave me a lot of room.  The experiment was successful.  Respect is earned, but it is earned differently by different people.  People who aren’t worth a damn, will only respect you through fear.  People who are worth a damn, I would later find out, would respect your even keel and magnanimity, especially when shown suddenly to strangers in overwhelming quantities.

There’s a bit of the “better part of valor” within, but that’s not the whole of it.  I think someone said, “before you go running to the doctor for good boy pills, make sure you just aren’t surrounded by assholes.”

So “Why this now?”  Saw something that struck me, stayed with me.  Someone had drawn up a sign for some protest that said simply “Respect Existence,” and I thought in return “Why the hell would I do a thing like that?”  Think of all the things I abuse, exploit, and murder just to go on living.  God almighty, I keep cats around because the little sociopathic murderers never cease to amuse me.  Existing merely isn’t earning respect.  So unless your force defeats mine or your soul succors mine, it’s just not going to happen.  Make an argument.  Put the slogans away.  They’ve always been for children.  The number of people screaming a platitude doesn’t make it any more right.