OUTspoken

I was very lucky to have the opportunity to speak at OUTspoken this week. It was inspiring to listen to the experiences of my fellow speakers, with subjects ranging from coming out, losing loved ones and growing up knowing you were gay.

I was nervous, but the warm reception and encouragement from the audience made it so much easier.

Below, is my speech. Feel free to read! Finally, thank you to Sidetrack for allowing me to speak and promote The Men He Met Along The Way.

Next week, my debut Novel ‘The Men Het Met Along The Way’ will be published. The story centres around a man, named Cameron, who spends his entire life battling with the acceptance of his sexuality. The story is in no way auto-biographical, and whilst a part of me is here to advertise the book because a girl needs to pay rent, I also spent sometime reflecting on Cameron’s journey and my own journey as an author and realised there were some parallels.

So no, the book is not auto-biographical. But Cameron’s journey with his sexuality, and my own journey to becoming an author have a similar thread.

Simply put, Cameron and I need to get over ourselves.

For as long as I can remember, I always wanted to become an author. As a young child, reading was a way for me to make sense of the world and the ability to be able to create stories which could in turn, help another make sense of life excited me. 

I remember as a teenager, my high school english teacher pulled me aside to tell me writing was something I was good at, and something I should seriously consider pursuing. I don’t know what it is about those high school english teachers who have a gaydar more accurate than any other human being, but thanks to Mrs Brayne for recognising me even when I was 15 and closeted.

So I began writing. Badly of course. You have to write those terrible stories first to know how to write a good one. Maybe one day, I will revisit the tale of ‘Rita’ the gangster who lived in San Francisco and wore Red stiletto heels anytime she ventured out to kill a man. I wrote that one when I was 16. I had never been to San Francisco, but I had tried on red stiletto heels secretly. Safe to say, that book was swiftly rejected by agents and publishers.

I wrote for the same reason I read. To make sense of the world. I am dyslexic, and sometimes I find it difficult to say what I am thinking in a smart, coherent way. Whats in my head, doesn’t exactly come out right out of my mouth. Writing gave me the chance and more importantly, the time to think about what it was I wanted to say about the world around me. It was a form of release, a therapy and most importantly, a passion. 

But life gets in the way. 

My high school was dominated by straight guys and I went to university in the UK sharing a apartment complex with 15 other straight men. Social currency there was how much you could drink and how many girls you could take home. I am 5’5 so I am a lightweight and wasn’t exactly what you would call eye candy to girls.

And for straight men, emotional stories about gay men finding themselves don’t get you status. 

Long story short, I kept writing in secret and at times, didn’t write at all by the end of University.

Which is when I came out. A euphoric, emotional and confusing time. This is by no means revolutionary, but soon after we come out, we begin the unpicking of ourselves to find which parts of our identity are truly us and which parts were just the act.

I wrote here and there, but the act of trying to ‘fit in’ and the importance I gave to other people’s opinions of me were deeply ingrained into my identity. I still wanted to become an author, but I wanted to be seen as ‘cool’ by others even more.

Safe to say, the pen stayed down and pages went untouched. Life progressed and I did what any other person did. Got a job that I enjoyed, built a social life and found hobbies that could pass the time. The desire to become an author was there, but not as intense. I poured most of my efforts into my job. 

Climbed the career ladder fast. I did what alot of gay men do. Use external validation such as our job title to mask who we really want to be. Which by the way is something Cameron, the main character from my book, does. On sale next week by the way.

All seemed well. Until at the age of 27 I had a breakdown. We’re talking serious breakdown. Being found in the toilets crying and being sent home and having your job pay for your therapy type breakdown.

My therapist asked me what was going on. I can still remember her pixelated face on the laptop screen as she asked “What’s going on?”

I took a deep breath. Exhaled.

“So I have moved to a country I don’t want to live in anymore, I am deep into a career I don’t want to do, I am gay and I don’t know what that means for me, I have no sense of direction in my life. Oh and I am also sleeping with my bosses son.’

She breathed. Closed her eyes. Breathed again. Opened them. And smiled.

“It’s bad isn’t it?”

“Lewis” she said “It is what it is.”

“Fuck me this is going to suck.” 

We wrestled with each topic one by one, spending hours back and forth. Why did I care so much about getting success at work? Why did I choose to move to another country in the first place? Why was I still sleeping with my bosses son when we he clearly wasn’t right for me?

Eventually, we got to it.

“I really wanted to be an author growing up. Still do in fact.” 

She asked why I held back. Why not become the thing I always wanted to be. Why was I not even trying?

The answer was simple. I cared far too much what other people thought of me. My desire to appear free from cringe was greater. Therapy taught me the desire was still there. I had lived for 27 years and I still wanted to be an author and the desire was not going away anytime soon. 

“So if not then, if not now, when?” 

I learned that it was either one day or day one. I decided then to pursue the dream in silence. I got back into writing but no one knew. 

Which meant I did it half heartedly. Which meant I continued to write shit stories like the one about a teacher who was struggling with work and slowly turned his life around to become one of the best teachers in the world! Again, swiftly rejected by agents and publishers.

Writing in secret was one thing, but it was easy. It meant I didn’t have anyone checking in, anyone holding me accountable for chasing a dream. 

Just before I turned 30, I moved here to Chicago. Still unknowing of the direction my life was heading in. I had a Phd place reserved for a year later, I had options, but I did not really know where I was heading.

Until the day I turned 30. For a while, I was worried that turning 30 meant the end of the world. But I woke up that morning with a newfound sense of purpose. 

This was it. Writing, was what I was meant to do. It was now. Even if my work never got published, I would pursue this until I could no longer pursue it. I wrote whenever I could. I told those closest to me that I was pursing the dream I held since I was young and I was not turning back.

And on a very cold, dark evening in February, I began writing the story of The Men He Met Along the Way. Early mornings, late evenings and whenever I could find the time, I wrote as best I could.

I wont talk to you about the writing of the book, all I need to tell you is that it will be published next week. 

A novel about a man who denies everything he is meant to be because he is too worried others will judge him? I do not know whether on some sub conscious level, I put myself in the book. The book is not auto-biographical, for example, I have never had a French man approach me for a hook up on a train. Buy the book to find out more!

I am sure there are parts I can recognise the journey Cameron goes on is the same as mine. 

But the moral of my story and Cameron’s is the same.

If you have a dream and that dream is part of who you are, chase it. You could spend your life suppressing it, denying it is meant for you. It will lead to a life not lived and one of regret.

I do not know what the next chapter of my life holds. The book and writing career may succeed, it may, in gay terms, flop.

But I would rather flop knowing I have done what I have always wanted to do, than stay on the sidelines caring whether people thought I was cool or not.

So I have learned, more than anything.

Get over yourself. Pursue the dream. Whether you achieve it or not, you’ll be happier than before once you do.