Getting Through It

July 21, 2017

So I’ve been reading Tarzan of the Apes, the first book in Edgar Rice Burroughs’s epic series. It’s good! Adventurous and exciting, and ironic in that I’m a human, thus the enemy to most of the main characters in the book. Still, a fun romp and one of the greatest adventure tales ever. Can’t wait to read the rest.

I’ve been working on several adventure tales, actually. Mostly pirate stuff, but I have a few others up my sleeve. No shirtless main characters, but I’m (trying to) put fast-paced, exciting stories out there. Let’s just someone else takes notice of them!

Another shirtless guy I’ve been thinking about these past two days…

Chester Bennington. I’ve loved Linkin Park pretty much since I first heard them in 2000, and never really had a “who cares” phase regarding them. When I heard about his death yesterday, it was the first time I’ve ever actually cried at work, and in front of everyone. It didn’t matter, though, it hit me hard.

I don’t want to get into a huge thing about how suicide is no joke and shame on you for making stupid jokes about this, but I really wish people would come to their senses. I’ve written stories where characters kill themselves, and I’m definitely not glorifying it. It seems like the only way of a situation sometimes, and I can understand why someone would make that choice, but there are people who can help, even if it just means someone listening.

I tried it once, back when I was 20. When I woke up the next morning, I figured maybe this world has more in store for me, and I’ve embraced it, good and bad. Every time I think about it again, I think about all I’ll miss, and never have the chance to experience.

How many great books and stories will I miss out on? How many movies, TV shows, songs, concerts, parties, Old West End Festivals, weddings, births, sunny days, rainy days, and everything else will I forfeit the chance to experience? To some, that might not be enough to matter. To me, it’s more than enough.

It’s life. And that’s why I keep writing, even if no one publishes me or reads my stuff. It’s why I continue to read, watch, listen, enjoy, taste, touch, feel, love, live, and everything else.

I’ve been writing like crazy lately. Regardless of what those pretentious editors (and the nonpretentious ones that just don’t find my stories right for their publication) think, I’m going to keep doing it, too.



May 31, 2015

I’m probably overreacting to this, but I just saw something that felt like a slap in the face. Nothing personal, and not something that I’m really offended by, but it woke me up a bit.

There’s another author out there named Myke! Myke Cole.

As you can guess, my birth name is Michael. Myke is a nickname, like Mike. Way back in 2000, a friend emailed me and wrote Myke, and I liked it, so I took it on. He did it because of the singer Myke Hideous, from such awesome bands as The Misfits and Bronx Casket Company and Empire Hideous. I like those bands, I liked the different spelling (Michael/Mike was at one time the most popular name for boys in America, and I hated hearing “Hey, Mike!” and thinking someone was talking to me. They weren’t.), so I started using it.

Over the years, more people have taken in on. Hey, it’s cool. It happens. Still, I figured as an author, I could go by Myke Edwards because, hey, that’s me. And yes, I know there’s an inspirational/Christian author named Myke Edwards, but he doesn’t count.

Still, it just feels kind of strange that there’s someone else out there going by Myke. I’m glad, in a way, but also, it scares me. Will people see me as a copycat poseur? A wannabe who lifted Mr. Cole’s name? Or will they not even care?

It’s just that with such a unique spelling of the name, it becomes a thing. If we both went by Mike, I wouldn’t care. I hope no one does, either way, and focus on what really matters: the writing.

(Yet still, here’s a picture of me, just so you know who wrote this!)


Keep on pushin’

October 16, 2013

Several months ago, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds released their latest album, “Push the Sky Away”.  I’ve listened to it probably every day since I got my hands on it.  As a huge fan of NC&tBS, I have a lot of thoughts on it.  I’m sure in a year or so, I’ll never want to listen to anything from it, then go back to gushing about the validity of the music or lyrics or cover art, or whatever.

But tonight, I made a revelation about this album.

Aside from seeing it as Nick’s darkest album yet (yes, even more so than “Let Love In”), I see it as a man coming to his senses.  A man who has realized that life has gone by and he’s only starting to experience it.  A man who has made choices and has to come to terms with them.

Maybe that man is Nick himself, maybe it’s the random protagonist narrator he so often portrays.  That doesn’t matter.  What does matter, to me, is that I have realized I can actually write about this.

Songs inspire me.  I’m a musician (although I haven’t picked up a guitar in a long time), and spent much of my twenties writing lyrics that never went anywhere, and music that sort of worked for its purpose.  But I’m also a man who loves music, so much so that if I’m writing a story and there’s silence, I can’t concentrate.  All the background noise gets to me, and I need music to block it out.

Anything by Nick is welcome while I’m writing.  “Nocturama” was played more times than I can count while I wrote “Absolution”.  Maybe someday that book will actually get published, and I can thank Nick in the Author Notes–and mean it.

But another songs do is inspire my writing.  I’ve written stories based on, inspired by, and about, songs.  Not songs I’ve written, but other stuff that I love.  “In the Blue Room”, hopefully getting published soon, was inspired by the music video for “Blue” by The Birthday Massacre, for instance.

As for Nick’s songs?  I’ve never once had an inspiration to write anything from one of his songs.

I was thinking about it, and I believe that it’s because the songs are always such complete thoughts.  A story, from start to finish.  I have no need to write about his stuff, because he’s said what needed to be said already.

Until I listened to “Push the Sky Away”.

I feel like I can write a story about every single song on that album.  Maybe I will.  But I know one thing is for certain–I know that I can listen to that album, no matter what my mood, and smile.

Because it is nothing but damn fine work.  Nick, if you decide right this instant to quit music forever, you’ve left me with a great ending.

I couldn’t ask for more.  And hopefully, the stories I write can do the songs justice.