Ink, Rage, and Reclamation

Happy Thursday everyone. How's everyone's week going so far? Are we hanging in there? Good. If not, chin up, shoulders back and remember you're a badass. Today, we are starting a new topic for Thursdays. As in I have thought about it, and now I’m actually going to do it. LMAO. Thursday’s are going to be titled Ink-Stained Secrets. Also, If you read to the end you will be able to see what each day’s topic actually is. Alright on with the show.

Some if not most days, the pen feels heavier than it should. For what pours out of that ink is a world that I have cultivated, characters that chose me to tell their story, and real life issues everyone can half ass relate to. It's an emotionally taxing job. You're holding someone else’s  anger, frustration, and chaos that words usually can’t contain only actions. And some days, that weight is exactly what I need.

Because truth be told, a shit ton of what’s on that paper, is someone’s therapy. Dealing with complex situations, emotions, and trauma. Playing it back hoping that the character can hold out just long enough to either escape or have their knight show up in a search and rescue. Hoping the whole time, you're not turning off or disengaging the reader.

I’ve learned that rage doesn’t always have to destroy, or be destructive. It can create. Sitting down with a blank page, a notebook, or even just a stream of typed words, I pour the chaos onto it. The house still isn’t perfect, the bills still loom, and the world keeps spinning, but in that moment, I reclaim something that feels like mine: control, expression, clarity. Because like my characters, It was never my fucking fault.

You know I have been accused by my besties (Izzy and Patrick) that I cause unnecessary trauma to my characters. Especially the female ones that walk through literal fire, to come out the fucking reborn Pheniox on the other side. That’s not a by chance thing. It is very much a clue into the situation I have overcome. 

Because any author that says there isn’t at least a little bit of self insert into their books is either lying to themselves or cookie cutter. Which is very much a “you do you boo”. I’m personally out there in left field and everyone already knows it. I don’t hide who I really am. The same person you see on Saturday Night’s over on Twitch (Hold My Pen Promptcast 7c/8e) is the same person you will meet at a signing event. Also, the same person you will see at Wal-Mart. 

My writing doesn’t erase the trauma, but it sure as hell gives it a shape, a rhythm, a container. It transforms the noise in your head into something tangible. Something you can confront, understand, and, little by little, master. Ink, paint, keys, brushes, whatever medium you choose, becomes the battleground where rage turns into reclamation. And Guess what, sweetheart? NO ONE HAS TO LIKE IT BUT YOU! Fuck what anyone else’s opinion happens to be on the subject. It isn’t about them… It’s about you.

So tell me: when was the last time you let your ink, your words, or your art reclaim your power? How did it feel to turn chaos into something tangible? Because raw emotion is just creative energy begging for somewhere to go, be seen, and really be felt.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble

Mondays — Chaos from the Keyboard (Writing, Creativity, Author Life)

Tuesdays — Plot Holes & Panic Buttons (writer quirks, plot rants, chaotic craft moments)

Wednesdays — Juggling Chainsaws & Mental Health (Mental Load, Healing, Survival)

Thursday — Ink-Stained Secrets (trauma, introspection, personal revelations)

Fridays — Mom Mode: Engaged (Parenting, Special Needs, Family Chaos)