No Fuckin’ Fear

It’s no secret: I love music, especially rock music.

In my last post on self-publishing, I struggled to express how I felt about the whole thing.  I kicked back to listen to some music in the afternoon and try to clear my head a bit, and I began to form all these broad analogies between writing and music.  For example, musicians go on tour, and so do writers to promote their books.

With that in mind, the best comparison I can make is this: the feeling I get with the work I’ve put out for far is that I’ve been making demo tapes.  Not that I hate what I’ve written.  I love Are You Proud of Me? and Grind, proud that they got out there, and I’ll go on adding to the Andrew Ursler stories for as long as I can.

Regarding Undead and Inhuman, I guess it can be considered my debut album.  There’s something to be said about that, something intoxicating and brave.  Look up Motley Crue’s debut Too Fast for Love on iTunes and you’ll read it described as “[capturing] the band in its hungriest pre-fame form.”  Perhaps as hungry as Stillwater playing Fever Dog.

I like that.  No fuckin’ fear.

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