Hey, half a year of writing every day. First and foremost, thanks to everyone who has commented, liked, shared, and even derided this project. I started the year on a very low point in my life and…kinda still there, but feel writing is helping me inch upwards.

Any day above ground* and all that, I guess.

I love writing. It can be something formal like an email, something with research involved like an article, or free flowing, run in sentences creative writing, in any style I feel like.

I used to write for Forge, Fuse, the405, Goldflakepaint, Now Then, Toast, LaPopLife, Counterfeit Mag, and a few more places that have been kind enough to publish me. I’ve done a couple of Nanowrimos and have a bunch of half finished drafts, and non-edited drafts that I’ve been putting “for later”. Some will get care and loving (and the axe). Others I believe a page zero re-write is the only way forward. Kill your darlings.**

You reach an age when “for later” is “now or never”. I think my writing lacked life experience, and I’ve accrued a lot since I started writing. I read a lot, but whenever I edit my stuff, it feels like I don’t. It’s weird, I guess I can’t put 2 and 2 together so my focus will be editing after this project is done.

As far as I remember, started writing when I was 11 years old. It was short stories, jokes, mini-reviews, nothing serious, you know how you are as a kid. My dad encouraged me to keep writing, as he loved reading and said there were good ideas there. Through all his life, he always asked how was I doing with my writing, and he was extremely happy when I self-published.

I never finished anything besides a self published novel and zines while he was alive, but he read a few drafts and always commented how I was improving. He used to buy me books about writing, some useful, others more of a cautionary tale of what not to do.

I caught him a few time peeking on story ideas or whatever I was typing at the moment. I felt embarrassed, and he never mentioned anything, but I think he was happy to see me write, and never had the words to say it. Thanks dad, I always felt supported by you.

I started re-editing a novel back in 2019, and it’s been a wild ride. It was in Spanish and unfinished, I translated it fully into English as a challenge, and ended up finishing it, but cutting half of the novel out as it bogged down pacing. I’m still refining it, as I still find problems with it. I might never finish it but I now see it as a workshop exercise instead of novel. I’m trying to cut my teeth with that particular novel and then go for the other drafts I’ve got, since I feel those stories are more engaging than a simple drama/horror novel set in Monterrey.

IRL friends have supported me through the years, whether by buying a novel or a zine, or simply giving feedback. It’s what I needed and I’m at an age where I know that it’s not about being published, but about how therapeutic writing becomes for you. I’ve seen a few people get published, with varying results. I no longer desire to live through that.

So again, thanks for all the people who comment and like these articles. I know they are usually first drafts, full of typos, and not great as I’ve got a busy schedule, but I want to hone my editing skills on a later challenge. This year is only about letting the pen loose. That doesn’t mean the editing axe isn’t getting sharpened every day.

Now, Sully, remember I said I wasn’t going to write about The Beatles? I lied.

Because I’m thinking of Paperback Writer today.

I don’t hate The Beatles, even if that’s the impression people get from me. I just got tired of their music. I used to commute on public transport and for a good 12 years or so, the buses I rode ALWAYS had “la hora de los beatles”, which was a program on a radio station that played an entire hour of The Beatles.

Every fricking day. Like any good thing, familiarity breeds contempt and I got tired of them. And it was always the same songs, never the deeper cuts. I don’t recall listening to I Want You (She’s so heavy) ever on public transport, it was IO Echo’s beautiful cover what made me realise what a great song it was. So was Il Neige’s nerdy cover/mash up with Lord of the Rings.

I’m rambling, as usual. Now you know why I fear editing my prose!

My mother was a big Beatles fan. So are all of my brothers. My dad outright hated them and understood my apprehension to listen to them. But most of my life, I’ve met a plethora of people who have a strong memory attached to this and that Beatles song. I guess it’s a sort of rite of passage. I’ve met a handful of people who downright hate them too and wouldn’t concede a single fraction of time to the fab four.

I’ve got three Beatles songs with a memory attached to them. One about a person I loved, one about a particular time in my life, and one about writing, which is my passion.

For some strange reason, Paperback Writer is a song that I never got tired of. Perhaps is the focus on a struggling writer what enticed me. Paul’s busy, catchy bass work is something to behold, and the vocal harmonies are the stuff of legends. It’s weird that it was a single and not an album track. The music industry has strange practises and through the years I find myself loving quirky little releases like this. Sometimes my fave song from a band is a b-side (The Smiths, The Stills, Smashing Pumpkins, Oasis), sometimes it’s an alternate take (Zwan, Smashing pumpkins again, Ryan Adams, Retribution Gospel Choir).

The matter of fact-ness of Paperback Writer’s lyrics is a hoot. Yeah, sounds like a terrible plot boiler in the style of Dan Brown, but it’s the protagonist’s earnestness (or naiveté) that he might get a deal what inspires me. His willingness to compromise too, even if it feels like fawning***. We all keep living that dream, whether it’s a lie or not, maybe it’s out of our hands.

So, half a year done. Half to go. Thank you for walking besides me on this journey. Love you all.

-Sam J. Valdés López

*Sorry, I know it’s a red flag to quote Scarface. At least it wasn’t the usual quote…

**I can’t BELIEVE I said that.

***We all need to chase the breadroll (terrible translation of a mexican phrase I love, which could be translated of we all need to work)