“Sex workers are the frontline workers of the soul.”
“Art should be an antidote to bullshit.”
“When I think of the sex workers I’ve had the honour of knowing… they’re some of the most brave, beautiful, passionate, intelligent, quirky, weird-ass people I’ve ever met.And I am so grateful, and so indebted to all of them, to have been reminded it doesn’t matter what society says about you. You are f*cking beautiful, and you are worthwhile, and you’re complicated, and you’re hurting and you’re healing and you’re human.And I really hope that anyone… who reads this book feels a little bit more in contact with their humanity afterwards.” )
After all these years, my dream has materialized. And I don’t feel like I thought I would.
Life does not consist of peaks and valleys, but incremental steps towards either.
It would have been folly to elect this publication the panacea for my human condition.
All the same, I thought I’d feel good!
To explain this incongruent mood, I have to divulge a matter of some embarrassment.
Our Zoom book launch, which I, perhaps naively, kept very public, was invaded by a nasty hoard of hackers who did their utmost to derail an otherwise beautiful event.
Me and my MC managed to boot the hecklers, and the show went on, as it must, but for me, the damage was done.
I received sympathy from performers and attendees alike, but no amount of support can outweigh the burden of a neurotic mind.
I put immense effort, not only into this book, but the event itself. I recruited some of the most talented artists I know, reached out to hundreds of family, friends, and acquaintances, and invested ample time into my least favoured element of the modern writing career: promotion.
All that energy expended to create one impermanent piece of paradise, and the demons still invaded.
Some people live to tear others down.
Technology only enables their enmity.
The internet is the Wild West of the Psyche. Anything goes; accountability is scarce.
This virtual reality has risen from ubiquitous to essential, not only in our daily communications, but concerning our very sense of self.
Whether or not we want to admit it, total Clicks, Likes or Views become a barometer of failure.
We differentiate the winners from the losers, the “winners” accumulating inconceivable exposure.
Meanwhile, those who have 1000 views, or 100, or 12, require immense security to avoid feeling they have failed to be seen, and perhaps, by proxy, loved.
When did we conclude that More = Better?
Even if “more” is meaningless.
Even if “more” unearths robots, trolls, and monsters.
I want to reach as many people as I can, to open their minds and stimulate their imaginations.
That’s an influence no Like button can measure.
In some ways, hate won this round. On the other hand, hate will never win- not as long as we insist on loving ourselves, each other, and the goals that make life rich.
I understand hateful people more than I’d like to admit. They are in Hell, and want to drag others into Hell with them.
I’ve had my share of Hell. (I still get weekend passes.)
The difference between me and them: I don’t want to spread Hell around.
My aim is to help people get out.
May my words serve as rough road maps to the soul.
May the story of my scars aid others in navigating their hearts’ mazes.
I don’t care how many Likes I receive, or how many demons crash my party. No matter the rain, I’ll march in my parade.
I’m going to write, create, and dare to do what haters can’t.
My beloved publisher, Thurston Howl Publications, released a story reading from the upcoming audiobook!
I, meanwhile, have been ill.
Mentally, physically, emotionally.
Mid-pandemic, I’m blessed to be without Covid. My illness manifests as adrenal fatigue, lingering colds, and mood swings. Yet these ailments take their toll.
Suffering is ample. So much that we feel there’s no room for our own.
The only way we can heal others is if we first heal ourselves.
My mental struggles may never be “curable.” Healing, for me, and for many, is arduous, life-long.
PL: Please start by telling us a little about yourself and how you began as an artist.
C.E. Hoffman:I’ve felt the creative urge as long as I can remember. My parents will tell you I used to narrate stories minutes long (often longer!) when I was wee. I wrote my first full-length novel (over 400 pages) at eleven years old, and the muse has remained ever-loyal- if not demanding!
PL: What does the art express or mean to you personally? At the same time, what kind of thought or feeling are you trying to evoke from your audience?
C.E. Hoffman:Writing is my liferaft. Some seek inspiration to write- I seek methods to stop!…
Thank you again to Sean Trayner (for the exceptional photography) and Cedric Bacon (for the cover design, plus, you know, being my publisher!)
Follow your dreams and don’t give a damn!
FYI. Following your dreams is NOT about “succeeding.” It’s about being true to your highest calling, your highest self. If material success comes alongside your dreams, great.
What matters is you abide your crie de coeur.
Run. Laugh (or make other people laugh.) Cook. Care. Write. Paint.
I’ve moved back in with my folks; my mum had a stack of empty Hallmarks begging to be sent.
I wasn’t expecting anything back. The thought of friends near and far opening real, tangible expressions of love is more than enough for me.
Much to my surprise, I’ve been getting cards! I’ve placed them on my vanity in my room, and today, when I looked at them, I cried.
Giving is wonderful; getting is great. True Love is reciprocal.
If I want to manifest the love I so long for, I have to let people in. Be honest; be vulnerable. I have to build trust, and, if intimacy allows, be bold enough to show my scars.
I never thought I’d make it this far. I’m sure a lot of you know how that feels.
I’m sure some of you reading this have tried to end it, or wanted to.
I want you to know that I love you.
I hope that today is the day you’ll start letting love in.
Believe me when I say love is everywhere. Even when you don’t expect it.
