A Load of BS

I should be working on my newsletter right now, but I wanted to blog instead. I'm actually multitasking; I'm listening to an interview with an author friend as we speak. As fate would have it, I found an unpublished draft on here from March. Wouldn't you know it, this is exactly what I want to address here and now.  I often look at people and wonder what drives them. What makes them great? What makes them different? What makes them keep going?  The answer is usually considered a positive trait. Determination, focus, love, desire. While all of this holds true for me, those answers also come from a dark place.  The primary one is fear. Fear of losing. Fear of failure. Fear of being inadequate. Most people know I deal with High-Functioning Anxiety and Depression. Imagine caring too much about what's not important and not enough about what is. Imagine sabotaging yourself and then falling to pieces when you lose. That's the genesis of it.  The term "neurospicy"

Until a few minutes ago, I couldn't decide which project to work on tonight. As I sat here with the ESPN bowl games acting as background noise, I wondered ' Do I work on the continuation of my Core Memories sexy romance series? ' (Yes, I can say the word sexy here. It's my blog. I'm not going to ban myself). ' Do I revisit my full-length work-in-progress that feels empty to me? '  Don't get me wrong. The latter is going to be a wonderful story once I decide to continue writing it. I just don't feel comfortable penning a straight fiction novel right now, even though one of my dear friends insists (and I'm paraphrasing here) "There's something uniquely special about a Brian Scala book." I can't shake this feeling that it needs to be something more than what it is. Romance, Horror, Suspense, maybe all of the above. I need a niche. People want horror or romance, or both. That's partially why I decided to dive into the romance th

It's been a while since I've done a blog post. The last time I wrote something here, things were not in a positive light. Things are better now, thankfully. I'm almost ready to proceed with publishing and releasing Eddie The Legend. I'm just waiting on beta reader feedback and one other indie publisher/author friend with whom I plan to submit my manuscript. Either way, I will move forward on or around April 1st. My goal is to have book in hand by Memorial Day so I can start planning my summer marketing. My authors group will likely have some summer events where I can peddle it. After the summer, I'll start thinking about my next story.  Also, I firmly believe that my upcoming book will show a significant improvement in writing proficiency. However, I'm biased. One other important thing I want to mention. Tell the people you love that you love them. Do it early and often. There will come a time where your parents or grandparents will start to lose their mental ca

We all know that age-old saying. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Unfortunately, I appear to have done this. Your friends will love you enough to tell you when it's time to get help. After a while, they tell you by ignoring you. Not naming names here. In 2005, I went through a rough time with anxiety and depression. I was a bit needy and vented a lot. It got to a point where one of my friends decided to cut me off or put me in a timeout. However you want to categorize it, this person decided they were done with me for a time. I ended up seeking help. My friend and I eventually reconnected and slowly but surely rebuilt our relationship. I'm happy to say we are the best of friends to this day. This year has been a terrible year for me in regards to anxiety and depression. No details here. The point is I forgot that some friends (not the same person as last time) can only do so much for you before they put you in a timeout. That's on me. Now it'

Dear Robin Williams, First and foremost, you were, without a doubt, my favorite actor growing up. You were my favorite comedian. Quite frankly, you were one of my favorite human beings up until the time of your death. I miss you, as does most of the free world. I recently started writing again. Subsequently, I started befriending a few authors on social media. I'm extremely happy with the quality of my second book so far. These days, I don't think too highly of my first book. I was a first-time author. It was inconsistent at best. One of my new writer friends suggested that I get my name back out there by embracing my first book and giving away a copy. I'm sure you're asking 'What does this have to do with me?" Well, I have a hard time re- reading my first book. I've skimmed bits and pieces here and there. Some of it is well written. A lot of it is cringe worthy.  There is a passage near the end of the book that uses your unfortunate death as a means to an

First and foremost, it is never anyone's business why somebody decides to consume or not consume anything, whether it be food, alcohol or other recreational substances. Nobody has questioned me on this topic recently. However, I started thinking about the who, what, where, when, why and how and decided to offer some context. My grandfather, Vincent Scala Sr., was always kind and loving towards me. He was a lively individual who enjoyed his Yankees, his horse racing and trips to Atlantic City. He also enjoyed his alcohol. By all accounts, he enjoyed it too much. I don't know what made him tick. I wasn't around for 95% of the bad times.  Towards the end of his life, all of his major organs started failing. His four children (and my grandmother, by then his ex-wife) took turns caring for a belligerent, mean bastard that was once my kind, fun-loving grandfather. Finally, my father took him in. There he stayed until his life ended in 1998. When I started noticing changes in my b