iain s. thomas and why you should be reading his book

I have a new favorite author! His name is Iain S. Thomas. Well, he’s been a new favorite of mine since early March… which is around the time I shared a quote on this blog from his book I Wrote This For You.

Goodness. I really like him because he writes stories, prose, and poetry.

All things I obviously I love.

Wow, I am using very intense language right now: really like, love…

ANYWAYS. Iain (cause obvi he and I are pals and we’re on a first-name basis!) published a book in 2015 (almost exactly two years ago!) (wow, lots of parathesis going on here…) titled: How to be Happy: Not a Self-Help Book. Seriously.

A book I am currently reading for the second time… Yes, it’s that good.

Let me explain:

Back in March, I was sad… a lot. And often. It was kind of a problem because I really didn’t want to be sad. I would actually get really mad at times that I was sad but being mad only made me sadder. Mostly because it was the kind of sad you can’t really tell yourself not to feel, right? You just feel it every day, until there comes a day when it for some reason decides to leave you.

That’s just how it goes. I think.

All to say, my sadness and desire not to be sad led me to Iain. Well, to his book.

At the time, I was stuck in an airport terminal with six hours to kill and iBooks only gives you limited pages of a book to sample before it hooks you in for the purchase. Needless to say, it’s safe for you to assume that I most definitely bought Iain’s book on my laptop and finished it in one sitting!

I bring this up because Iain writes this book with great self-awareness. Honestly, I think I could quote his whole damn book because it’s amazing and you should go read it right now… Even if you aren’t struggling with sadness.

But, if you are sad right now… Consider this, as Iain so beautifully poses:

“I think sadness is there to make us avoid the things that are bad for us.

Sadness is a way for the person deep down inside you to take care of you, the person desperately trying to keep you alive despite everything. They reach out from the dark inside you and pinch your heart between their fingers so that you’ll stop whatever you’re doing and look around you, and wonder why your heart feels so very, very sore.”

I mean, how beautiful is that?

Your own self, looking out for your own self… Yes, perhaps this process hurts, but (as Iain shares earlier in his book) we wouldn’t really know what being happy means… if we didn’t know sadness.

(Wow, kind of sounding like the movie Inside Out, now.)

Ok, but really… Perhaps, if you are feeling sad… its actually there to help you and somehow, pave the way back to joy.

Idk, just think about it.


my puzzling realization

My plan for today was to write for two hours, solid.  I only managed 15 minutes before I caved.  Last week, I was asked if I am good at disciplining myself, I answered: I hope I am.

And in truth, to some degree I am, but to another I am not.

The reason I failed so miserably probably has to do with a book I started reading yesterday and finished today.  For the past two months, a hunger to read has overthrown me.  I like this hunger and want it to stay.  Therefore, I find myself complying to its needs.  The book I read and finished is Divergent by Veronica Roth.  A book similar to the concept of the Hunger Games and one soon to found on the big screen.

(My latest desire is to read all the books which will soon be made into movies.)

The story is good, the character development is exciting.  This girl, the author, is a graduate of Creative Writing and it makes my belly sick.  Mostly, because I wonder if I could write a book like hers.  Though, to take on a novel seems too challenging to attempt.  For a while now, novels scare me.  Perhaps, it’s the commitment I would have to give.  Not to mention, I don’t know if my writing is always stable and clear.  Most of the time, I am confused by my own words and wonder if they make sense.


The truth is I began writing today with the hope that I would write for two hours.  Obviously, this didn’t happen.  It’s okay it didn’t because at least, I am still educating myself by reading.  Correct?  Or so I will continue to tell myself as I begin the next book.

Since those hours past, I have realized something.  I’ve decided to go into the abstract and try to create.  I didn’t give myself ground rules… Most importantly, I didn’t give myself an audience.

How am I suppose to write when I don’t know who I am writing for?