Kevin Lankes's Blog

It's been over three years since I was diagnosed with stage 3 melanoma.  I'd like to think that since a lot of time has removed me from the event that things have settled back into some semblance of normalcy.  Of course, as anyone knows who's been through a traumatic experience, that isn't even remotely true.  
I've tried very hard to distance myself from cancer.  But it's never far from my thoughts.  I've carved out a career for myself while writing about the issues surrounding young adult survivors and cancer in general.  Gritty, poignant stuff.  And, all along, I've been trying to separate myself from the very issues I've been writing about.  It hasn't worked as well as I'd like.  I still get sniffly when I read a story about someone who died of cancer.  Stuart Scott's recent passing has me a bit off-kilter.  He was a guy in control of his disease -- as much as such a thing is possible -- and yet in reality, he had the same chances of surviving a terminal illness that any of us do.  It isn't a fair thing, and it doesn't play by the rules.  
I still feel slightly awkward when cancer is mentioned in a movie or on TV.  Sometimes I pretend to play along, acting like my first-hand knowledge gives me some kind of deeper understanding or empathy toward characters or people.  But in reality, hearing about it just sucks.  The memories are still there somewhere, taking up space in the back of my mind.  From time to time, they hurt.  Maybe even more so now, because the details have mostly faded and all that remains are hints of fear and resentment.  
I don't know where life goes from here, but I do know that there are some pretty awesome reasons to stick around to find out.  Things are going my way for the most part and I have everything that I need, even though I don't appreciate this as much because I can't shake the constant feeling that it might all disappear in a flash.  But the journey continues, leaving me with a pretty clear question: How do you deal with moving forward after trauma, and how do you fit back into regular life?  

Recently, I started in on another workout routine.  I say "another," because I've been starting them for a while now.  It hasn't been easy to keep in shape since my diagnosis and subsequent treatment.  And this seems to apply to a significant portion of young adult survivors.

So today I did five rounds of shadowboxing, plus a mix of cardio and calisthenics that I used to get in shape before my Thai Boxing Association Assistant Instructor test when I was 16.  Yesterday I did three rounds.  I'm exhausted, but I'm working my way up.  It's important to do something that you're comfortable with.  It's the best way to shed the pounds.  In my case, I'm totally lucky.  And I recognize that.  Not everyone has spent 22 years in the martial arts.  I started studying a very physical art (well, five of them) when I was seven years old.  Some people have always led a sedentary lifestyle, and so exercise is much harder for them.  I get it now.  I really do.  It's so much easier, post-cancer, to be sedentary.  I don't like to move around much.  It's odd, but I notice it.

For one thing, it's a positive.  I've started to fall into my work more.  And that's taken me to places I never would have gotten had I never been diagnosed.  I know myself pretty well, and I honestly believe that to be true.  The downside of working too much is obvious -- actually there are multiple downsides, but we'll start slow.  The worst being that, as a writer, I sit around a lot.  Even though I've been meaning to purchase a stand-up desk.... well I mean to do a lot of things and I haven't.  So there's that.  The chub grows.  And not the good kind.

I'll continue to make an effort to get back what I've lost.  Not just the physicality, but the mindset and lifestyle as well.  It's hard to recognize the worth of getting back into shape after facing the trauma of a life-threatening disease.  Doing so places only the most immediate and worthwhile needs in front of you to the exclusion of all the rest.  Regardless, I'll put on my best workout garb, play some tradition Thai Boxing tunes, and jam out with my fists out until I get back into fighting shape.

I realize it's been a while since I've posted.  I sincerely apologize for my absence, prostrating myself before the altar of public forgiveness (If you're interested in the literary blooper reel, I almost typed "prostating" just then.  In fact, I actually did type "prostating," but caught it just in time).  As with all things, there are crests and troughs -- just as moon waxes and wanes, and the weevil scuttles across that leftover bag of rice in the cupboard, so too, does creativity grant only the briefest of audiences.  For me, that means I have so much going on that I'm generally too overwhelmed to think at all times.  Yeah, it's fun being a writer.  

Which brings me to the subject of today's post -- I wrote a new ebook.  It's called, How to Write Like a Badass.  Check out the cover here:  

Image copyright TheCatchMode
The book serves as a guidebook for anyone who's thinking about taking the leap into professional writing.  It also gives pointers to others who may have established writing careers already, but haven't yet realized the level of financial comfort they'd been hoping for.  Hell, you should read it even if you think you know what you're doing.  I think I know what I'm doing after several years of peddling my literary ramblings, but now and again I discover whole realms I knew nothing about.  

Don't worry if you've never written anything before.  Now is the time.  Don't worry if you've only been published on the web, or in High School.  If you want to write and make money doing it, then this book will show you how.  

Right now I'm in the final round of edits, and the book will be available for purchase later in the week.  

It's crazy to think that not too long ago my future on this planet was in serious jeopardy.  I guess that's not entirely accurate.  I'd still be on the planet, just not hanging out and rocking my jam as usual.  And if I was, then you should run.  Fast.  Because I'd be a zombie and your brains would for sure become my breakfast.  For sure.

For those of you following along at home, I recently had one of those birthday thangz all the cool kids are getting into.  They seem to be almost unavoidable these days.  No matter where you look, people are always having birthdays.  Some people have so many birthdays that you have to wonder just who they think they are.  I once wrote that you should always be glad to have another birthday.  That you shouldn't fret growing older, because every new day was a gift.  I don't know from where, or from whom, but the gist was that you should appreciate the time that you have.  Since I'm a regular human person like anyone else, my thought patterns and opinions wax and wane like a desert moon orbiting a lonely rock at the outskirts of the galaxy.  I don't know exactly what I believe about birthdays anymore, or even about existence, or about appreciating the gift of tomorrow.  Is it really a gift?  Some people's tomorrows will be unquestioningly awful.
There are those in this life whose tomorrows are always filled with very sad things.  Suffering, disappointment, hardships.  Some people will never have a chance at a normal life -- they'll never have a shot at the best things this place has to offer.  And, according to the credo to which you choose to adhere, it's entirely possible that they won't get another chance to try again.  I'm not elevating my experiences to rival those of what could only be described as an earthly prison -- not at all.  I have a great time, as a general rule.  Because, if I'm not enjoying myself, then I strongly feel that I should move over and make space for someone else who will.  I think I'm just suddenly unsure about how to take my ongoing survival.

I used to have plenty of questions related to surviving cancer.  "Why me?" is a trusty standard.  I used to have zillions of feelings and micro feelings relating as well.  And then, after a while, it all kind of just stopped.  And I was allowed to be normal again.  Only I didn't know how.  And to some extent, the normal I've chosen is someone I don't recognize when I really stop to look.  I suppose the bottom line is; I don't know who I am anymore, or who I want to be.  I don't know exactly what almost dying and suddenly having more birthdays has done to me.  And I think I'd better figure it out if I want to justify the potential gift of being granted even more birthdays.  I owe it to myself, and the people who are taking for granted that I'm always going to be here.

Photo credits: Top -- Cover art for Metastatic Memories, © 2014 Kevin Lankes and TheCatchMode

In the past week I have downloaded an NES emulator, as well as a Super Nintendo emulator, and I have close to 2,000 classic games from my childhood to work through.  Though it won't be much work -- not in the traditional sense of the word, anyway.

Lately, I've been easing through my normal routine.  After I finish a major project, I wander aimlessly for a while, picking at new ideas like they were scabs in the recesses of my brain (brain scabs are nasty).  While I do this, I need to keep my mind occupied with fresh material and concepts.  So I consume.  A lot.  Any creative input will due.  Emulators are at the top of the queue at present.

The most eagerly-tackled game in the bunch, by far, was the original, the classic, the most awesomely awesome, "The Legend of Zelda."

Hear that Overworld theme playing in your head.  Relish it.  Bathe in its epic tonal quality.  Now do some more relishing.  Mmmm.  I admit that I'm using a walkthrough for this one.  Because, even though I played it incessantly as a kid, I'm not entirely convinced I ever really knew what I was doing.  And therefore, I can't be sure I ever actually beat it.  And I really, really want to.  The sequels, and games I can reasonably figure out on my own (things are mostly handed to modern gamers these days, or at the very least, are extremely intuitive), I'll play through without any extra help.

Like this one.  I'm already a decent way through it.  And things are coming along well.  It's amazing what you remember from when you were seven (in cases that aren't Zelda).  The cool thing about emulators is save states.  So you don't ever have to lose your place in a Nintendo game again and start all over.  Unless you mess with the F keys by accident... I still haven't figured out how to fix that mistake.  Oh well.  Project nostalgia is well underway, with zillions of classic titles poised to meet the sweet bioelectric feedback from the tips of my gaming thumbs.  This on the heels of the 125th anniversary of the founding of Nintendo.  I'd say that's an awfully cool coincidence.

Anway, I hope you all have a successful writing routine (or general work routine) that works for you.  Something that helps you optimize production.  And, something that's just plain fun.  Takes the stress out of life for a while, and helps to further your goals at the same time.  So, to this point, I say emphatically, happy birthday Nintendo.

The lady friend and I signed a lease last night.  We'll be moving in together in August.  That sort of thing is a little scary, of course, but ultimately in life it's important to choose to be around the people who make you happy.  It's a simple thing, and it makes going through all the other superfluities of life so much more tolerable.  I will remember I said this when she eats the last of the Ghirardelli chocolate chips and I want to rage.

In other news, I'm on chapter 24 of my novel, and I'm aiming for about 30 total chapters.  So the first draft will be done soon, and after a round of editing I'll be looking for beta readers.  I'll post more on that soon, but get in touch with me if you'd like to help -- I'm looking for people who have opinions about things.  If you do some honest self-analysis and find that you genuinely don't have opinions, this is probably a serious medical condition and you should be evaluated by your physician.

"Oh, I remember back when I first read a book by Kevin Lankes.  ....It was yesterday.  We just threw on an old-timey filter like the kids do on the Instagram.  Ahem."I have some upcoming new freelance writing contracts for July, which is great, because otherwise the above two points wouldn't be going so well if I didn't have the means to fund them.  That being said, I could always use more clients.  If you or anyone you know has a writing or editing project, check out the fee schedule on my website, or get in touch with me to discuss the details.

Otherwise, the month of June has been spent finally tackling Latin, which has been a long-standing interest of mine.  Last Christmas, my girlfriend bought me an immersion-style coursebook written entirely in Latin that I've begun to steadily work through.  Also, failing to avoid heated facebook arguments has become a favored pastime of mine in the month of June (not that it ever wasn't).  I've become quite addicted to reading facebook and article comments, especially when the subject matter is controversial.  The level to which people can be unreasonable is fascinating.

My sincerely held beliefs require me to write exclusively in cursive Latin from now on.So, the year moves on and Time cuts down another month.  I'm excited to finish this novel in the upcoming days and get to finalizing it and sending it out.  I'm probably more excited about this project than I've ever been about anything.  But a reasonable excitement -- one that says, "You know, I think I pretty much got this right on."  And there's a sense of satisfaction that goes with that, a level-headed contentment that makes me feel like this really could be something special.  And with that, I'll keep clicking the Chiclets until it's done, and keep pounding Latin vocab into my head (some of which are English words that mean completely different things, like "it"), and keep funding the lifestyle that allows me to achieve the goals I've set.

Tonight I'm traveling to PA to be with family for the holiday weekend.  I hope everyone's 4th of July is filled with an abundance of fun.  Until next time.

Every novel has a soundtrack.  It's true.  If you're a writer, you probably already know this.  I'm sure some writers don't listen to anything at all while they write, but I generally consider them to be mutants and exempt from this conversation.  Most of us need to pull inspiration from a variety of sources, and one of the most inspiring pools around is that whole auditory sensory perception jiggy (<== official technical name).
Music is hella great.  I've known this my whole life -- I've been performing music since the summer before fifth grade, when I picked up a trumpet for the first time under the watchful eye of my teacher, the late Ray Detweiler.  He molded me into quite the musician, capable of living comfortably in an expansive, magical new world.  Because music is magical.  It brings out emotional responses like nothing else.  It can be inspiring, uplifting, even terrifying.

A lot of people are terrified when they see things like this.  #TabCulture
Image Credit: melintelinas via deviantartCurrently, the novel I'm writing has no soundtrack.  This makes me terribly sad.  I plan to remedy this in the near future, so that I can increase my odds of crafting it into the killer story I know it so rightfully is.  My next novel, however, has such an epic soundtrack that has never before been heard by man nor angel.  It's a combination of Sir Christopher Lee's first operatic metal album (yes, this is a thing), and assorted music from Two Steps From Hell.  This particular lineup is what you call a surplus of epic.

Music is so influential that it even has the ability to irritate the shit out of us, as is the case with my upstairs neighbors producing a criminally monotonous, half-baked rap album above my head as I write this.  The most powerful part of music, however, is that it inspires other art.  It can also be inspired by other media as well, but the quality of art created while under the influence of music is powerfully profound.  And remember, if you or someone you love is under the influence of music, and can't seem to find their way back to a normal life, I have a twelve-step program to sell you.  It involves buying my books.

For now, I'll continue to search for an appropriate soundtrack to my current project.  It must needs be inspirational, hopeful, tragic, but with an air of uncovering a new dawn.  Recommendations are welcome.  Do you have a soundtrack for your book or other art?  If so, what is it?  And how did you come by it?

Good morning, everyone.  Though it isn't morning as I write this, and chances are it isn't morning while you're reading, either.  "Good morning" just sounds welcoming.  So that's what I'm going with.

As some of you may know, my new book, Metastatic Memories is out.  You can find it here, in both paperback and Kindle editions.  My six-month-old nephew reviewed the book (spoiler: it's adorable).  You can find his review here.

It's been quite the week.  Metastatic Memories was released, I picked up leads on new freelance clients, I found out my chances of the cancer coming back are down to 15%, I had a mini-breakdown, I reflected a lot on friendship, and what it's like to be a young adult cancer survivor attempting to function as normal in the real world.  All of this happened conveniently during Young Adult Cancer Awareness Week, and they all deserve their own posts.  For the time being, I'll leave you with a small shred of wisdom, which is -- life is what you make it.  You can be all kinds of things, and have all kinds of things happen to you.  But it's how you respond to your circumstances and how you go about accomplishing the goals you set for yourself that define your direction.

Pick it up here!

Wow.  It's been a long journey.  A very, very long journey.  But Metastatic Memories is finally published.  I hope you'll pick up a copy and share my story.  Because it isn't just my story; it's the story of 72,000 new young adults each year.  It's the story of untold millions worldwide.

Writing this book was easy.  The editing was the hard part.  I had to go over it again and again, making changes and rewriting passages until it reflected what I honestly believe to be a true account of my brush with untimely death.  And now it's done, and I hope that everyone will take something from the book.  I hope it will help.

Recently, while my family was passing the review copy between them, my nephew, the Creature, somehow managed to get his hands on it...

I may have had to coax him into it.

The Creature was not impressed with my efforts to bribe him with tickles.
Eventually, he got into it.
The Creature likes it!  "Hey!" he might have said, had he been able to form sounds other than Glar Glue Glar Gwwaaaa, at the time. "My uncle tells a pretty good story!  This might just be my favorite book."
Why thank you Creature.  Your uncle is proud to have such a dedicated reader in the family.  Creature, you even make a short cameo at the end of the book -- it's possible that you're reading about yourself here.  Or it could be that I've made that up, just like I've staged this whole post to serve as promotional material for the book.  What a low thing to do, using such an adorable creature as a prop!  Well, the truth is that I'm kind of attached to you, Creature, and I'm glad you're my nephew, and that one day you'll grow up and read my books, and tell me how much you don't agree with my version of events, just like your mom.  I can't wait for that day.

Until then, I'll just keep reading them to you, and pretending that your gurgles and smiles are rave reviews on content and sentence structure.  They're definitely more valuable to me than any other kind of review.

Buy your copy of Metastatic Memories here.

The review copy of Metastatic Memories is here, and I couldn't be more excited about it.  Feel all my excitement through your screen.  Feel it.  It's exciting.  Exciting!


I have to say, the book looks great.  I mean, really great.  It feels good, has a nice heft to it.  The formatting turned out well.  The cover is exceptional -- it was designed by my good friend John Langan at TheCatchMode.

I'm in PA for my upcoming six-month checkup at UPMC's Hillman Cancer Center, and had the review copy shipped to my parents' townhouse.  My family has hijacked the book and have been hoarding it since it arrived yesterday afternoon.  Apparently it's good.

Check out a few pictures of the book in action.
My mother raves, "Don't post those pictures of me in my bathrobe or I'll end you."

Metastatic Memories will be available for sale in the next week or two.  The paperback version will be up first (which looks great, by the way), followed shortly by the kindle version.  It'll be enrolled in the Amazon Matchbook program so that you can buy both and get a solid discount.


I can't thank everyone enough for all the support.  Writing this has been quite an adventure.  I can't wait for it to be out, and to share my story with the world.  See you all soon.