Why I Stopped Giving a Shit: Chaos, Creativity, and Carving Out The Broken Spine My Way

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Over the past few years, I’ve stopped giving a damn about whether I’m “ruffling feathers” or following some prescribed path. Through hard-won experience, relentless creativity, and zero apologies, I’ve come to see who I am and where I belong: at the fringes. I know I’m wired differently—I’ve figured that out after years of living in my own head, watching the way my mind relentlessly spins, builds, and refuses to quiet down. I’m going through the process of diagnosis right now, but I’d not be fooling anybody if I were to say I don’t have any kind neurodivergence. And while I may wish for peace sometimes, there’s no way I’d ever trade this fire for comfort or calm. This chaotic drive is who I am, full stop.

Building The Broken Spine, One Ballsy Project at a Time

The Broken Spine is my brainchild, and it’s going to reflect my grit, my vision, and my full-throttle approach to indie publishing. If there’s an easier, softer way to run a press, I’ve never seen it. I’ll be here for every line edit, every design mockup, every marketing plan. So, for anyone wondering, yes—I’m in this completely, and my fingerprints will be all over every single one of the 30 print projects we have in motion for the next three years. That includes the rest of The Whiskey Tree series, Waves 2 and 3, a big-as-hell collective project, the next ten slimline collections, more chapbooks from competition winners, and more Fusion projects. It’s a lot, and it’s exactly what The Broken Spine was made to do: serve up work that lives on the edge, the sort of work that can’t be tamed or polished down to fit the mainstream.

By the end of 2027, we’ll have raised some hell and launched a damn legacy. And maybe then, who knows—I’ll find a little peace. But let’s be real, I’ll probably just dive back in with another wave of projects because, well, that’s just who I am.

Creating Without Apologies or Safety Nets

This urge to create is more than just passion—it’s the only thing that keeps me steady. For some people, happiness comes from collecting things, scrolling socials, or zoning out. But for me, it’s the thrill of building something raw and real, shaping ideas and watching them burn bright. It’s my addiction, and yeah, it’s exhausting. But this is what I’m good at, and I’m not stopping.

There’s something magnetic about living on the creative fringes—doing things on your terms, no middle ground, no holding back to play nice. The Broken Spine isn’t here to fit in; it’s here to challenge, to unsettle, to make people think. Whether it’s the visuals I design, the campaigns I create, or the poetry and prose we bring to life, everything about this press is meant to defy expectations.

Recognising Neurodivergence Everywhere I Look

Maybe because of my own neurodivergent journey, I have an instinct for recognising it in others. I see it in my three kids, in my friends, in the talented poets and artists I work with. I know what it’s like to live with an untamed mind, one that doesn’t follow anyone’s rules. And these familiar signs—the intense focus, the bursts of creativity, the need to go against the grain—remind me that I’m not alone on this crazy path. My empathy for other neurodivergents runs deep because I know firsthand how incredible, and how challenging, this wiring can be.

Looking Ahead (Or Just Blazing Ahead)

One day, sure, I might slow down, pull back, maybe even pour this energy into a project that’s purely mine. Maybe I’ll have my “Gump moment” where I say, “I think I’ll go home now” and walk off into the creative sunset. But let’s be honest: I’ll probably be building and scheming my way through life until I’m too tired to lift another chapbook.

Right now, I’m running The Broken Spine exactly the way I need to. If it ruffles a few feathers or makes people uncomfortable, good. I’m here to make art that matters, to push boundaries, to raise hell with every project we launch. This is what it’s like to be a publisher, a creative, and a neurodivergent artist who’s in this for the thrill, for the work, for the goddamn art of it all.

This is who I am. It’s the thrill of creating without compromise, living for the rush of making something bold, and standing by every single word and image that comes through The Broken Spine. If that means my life looks a little different than most, then so be it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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