Matt Curry

The bus’s engine became louder as it approached the stop. Once the bus pulled over to let a group of students out, another group of students waiting on the platform moved closer to the vehicle to enter. Most of the new passengers sat down in the front row of seats. I chose to sit in the back, away from the rest of the crowd. I put my phone in my pocket and gazed out the window, into the adjacent forest. All of the trees were barren, and only a few leaves fluttered around them. Watching them gently sway back and forth filled me with such contempt. These crunchy little leaves will never understand how good they have it. They may be dead, but at least they don’t have to do something, meet someone, and most importantly, they are under no obligation to be somebody. After some time, I began to fixate on my reflection in the window. Out of the corner, I saw a man running towards the bus as fast as he could. It was Adrian, my next-door neighbor, and the only person at this entire university whom I would willingly call my “friend.” As soon as he got on the bus, I waved towards him. “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked. “Ah, grand,” Adrian wheezed. “You?” “Pretty good,” I replied. I moved my backpack so he could sit down. “So, Ed, have you started your research yet?” I grimaced. “Haha, I see. I gotta go to a meeting with my advisor, Janeck, before class. How’s your man, Paul?” “If you must know, Dr. Dickinson is doing fine.” Adrian laughed. “You Americans are so formal. Just call the man ‘Paul.’ In Ireland we have no qualms about calling the professors by their first names.” “I’m not calling him Paul.” “Ok then, how about ‘Paulie’?” Adrian suggested. “No.” I tried to remain serious, but I also couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, I’ll do it,” Adrian teased. “Ok, have fun.” After we got off the bus, we started walking towards the history department. “Jesus, this feckin’ weather,” Adrian complained as he rubbed his hands together. “Heheh, not used to the climate on the other side of the pond, eh ‘Barbarossa’?” I said, gesturing at my friend’s beard. “Good to see the German historian retains a sense of humor.” “Well, that’s because I’m not actually from Germany.” We share a laugh. Soon, we reached the department. I headed for the entrance as Adrian stayed behind to smoke. “I’ll see ya later,” I called out. “Yep!” Adrian waved, and then started fumbling with his lighter. I waved back, opened the door, and headed down the stairs towards my office. Having an office was one of the few things that I could feel proud of, even if it was really just an extra storage closet. Above my desk was a bookshelf with an assortment of texts. Most of them dealt with Germany and the Nazis, in both English and German to help me keep up my language skills. Some of the other books were about Russia, and the rest were about various other topics that piqued my interest. I closed my office door and headed towards the grad student lounge. Two of my colleagues were sitting at a table, chatting about their research. I said hello and sat down. Secretly, I wished that they weren’t there. “How’s the research going?” one of them asked. “It’s going good,” I told them, lying through my teeth. We made small talk. Sometime later, one of my colleagues looked at his phone. “I’m gonna go into the classroom,” he said. I followed him in. Soon enough, more people started to arrive. Adrian came in sat next to me. “Whadda you suppose is on the agenda tonight?” he asked. “Dunno, let’s find out.” I looked around the room at the rest of my cohort. I wanted to have better relationships with each of them, sharing my knowledge and passion with like-minded individuals, and had dreams of collaborating with them on projects that would define a grad student’s tenure. But those dreams never materialized. My worst fear was not saying the right thing or not using the correct jargon which would expose me as an imposter who did not deserve to be here. It didn’t take long for my fears to mutate, and before I knew it, I found myself worrying about my “uncouth and vulgar” interests outside of academics which would cause my highfalutin colleagues to ostracize me. Across the table, two people were having a conversation about Edward Said. I knew of Said, and had a vague idea of what Orientalism was about. In front of me was a perfect opportunity to bond with members of my cohort and ask questions in order to better understand one of the giants of academia. But I was petrified. After all, I should have memorized every word of what Said said as well as every other esoteric scholar before I dared to even think about applying to graduate school. Ten minutes later, the professor walked in and greeted everyone. Moment of truth, I gulped. After handing out the syllabi, the professor asked us all to share how our “projects” had manifested since the end of the previous semester. Each of us shared our plans. I was all the way at the other end of the table, so I had plenty of time to prepare what I was going to say. As I listened to my colleagues share their plans, I became more and more dismayed. Of course, I wished them all the best, and each of their topics sounded interesting, but at the same time, I didn’t think that my topic was as rigorous as everyone else’s. How are you going to hold up against THAT? my conscience nagged me. “And last but certainly not least, Eddie, what's your topic?” the professor inquired. The spotlight was now on me, and I could feel its heat. “Oh, well, um… so over the break I got the chance to look through the files of this guy who got my property taken by the Nazis and when World War II was over, I tried to get it back. Basically, during the process, I was in contact with a senator and I tried to persuade me to pass various pieces of legislation to help American citizens like himself.” “That sounds really interesting,” the professor smiled. “Do you know what you’re going to argue?” I was floored. All this time and I didn’t know how to answer the most important question! “Uh, not sure yet. There’s multiple avenues I could, um, take with this research,” I said, trying to stave the professor off. “Well, that’s why you’re here!” the professor said. I smiled. I know he was trying to encourage me, but on the inside, I was anything but content. Time started to slow down. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes into hours. I tried to focus on the seminar, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. The only thing I could think about was how I made a huge mistake by choosing to go to graduate school. You really fucked up this time. You can’t handle this much work. You’re not cut out for this. Look around you. All of these people are way smarter than you. The only reason you got into this program is because they needed to fulfill a quota and you know it. This is the end of the road for you. Look at the professor. You’re NEVER going to be like me. You don’t have the skills required. What the fuck are you going to do after you graduate. You’re not going to find a job. You’re going to be a fucking loser. Forever. The entire time, I could feel a tingling sensation in the back of my head. The sounds that emanated from the room felt amplified. Trying to sit still became increasingly difficult. I kept fixating on the professor’s suit and tie. Who am I compared to this man, with my cheap moccasins, and my polo that’s way too short, and keeps getting untucked every time I move, and my belt that I had to borrow from my dad because I didn’t have one that looked nice enough? See that man, and his outfit? My conscience teased. He gets to wear that because he fucking earned it. You didn’t earn the right to look nice. You never have, and you never will. I looked over at the clock. Oh God, there’s still an hour left. All I wanted to do was jump out of my seat and get the hell away from here, as far as possible, and never look back. Fortunately, though, I would not have to wait too long. “Alright, if nobody has any questions, then I’ll see you next week,” the professor said. I packed up my belongings as fast as I could and sprang out of my seat. Free at last. Adrian appeared at my office door. “Hey, do you wanna go to trivia tonight?” “Nah, sorry, I got some stuff I need to do,” I replied. Socializing with my cohort was the last thing that I wanted to think about. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I said. I brushed past Adrian and bolted for the nearest exit. Outside, the wind harassed me as I headed for the nearest bus stop. My nerves felt like they were going to pop out of my skin. My head pounded. For a moment, I even thought someone was following me. I reached the bus stop and sat down on the frigid bench. I tried to relax. Class is over, you don’t have to worry. You can go home now and sleep. -No! No you can’t! You have to get working on this research RIGHT THIS FUCKING SECOND! How are you going to manage your classes and your TA responsibilities and your bills and your career and your friends and your family and your wellbeing and- I had to focus on something. But what? Uhh... the bus! C’mon, c’mon, where is this damn thing?! I stared down the street as if that would make it drive faster. Several minutes later, I saw the shuttle round the corner. I climbed aboard and sat down in the closest available seat. My nightmare was over, for now.

Hello everyone, it is nice to meet you all. Below are my part 1 exercises: Story Statement: Eddie does not have good mental health, and needs to change. Antagonist: The main antagonist of my manuscript is, strangely, also the protagonist. Eddie struggles with the dark triad of anxiety, depression, and OCD. While Eddie understands that his mental health is not in good shape, and needs to figure out a way to become better, he is constantly sabotaging himself by reverting to his “old ways,” to the point where it is now threatening to push him over the edge. Potential Manuscript Titles · High Climber · So Far, So Good, So What? · Melt all Your Memories Comparable Titles History Is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera- Silvera’s novel does several things really well that have inspired me when writing my own manuscript. First of all, Silvera does a great job at not only highlighting mental health struggles among young boys, he also provides a lot of great insight into OCD, a disorder that still has a lot of misconceptions around it. While many stories highlight the “compulsions,” or what most outside observers see, Silvera also sheds light on the “obsessions,” or what’s going on inside. Furthermore, History Is All You Left Me does a great job at alternating between past and present narratives, something that I feel is vital for telling a story focused on mental health. I seek to build off of History Is All You Left Me by expanding the focus beyond how young adults struggle with mental health, and also look at how “new” adults deal with mental health issues. Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haig- Matt Haig’s hybrid novel/memoir (I’ve seen it called both so I’m not really sure what to classify it as) does a great job at showing the reader many of the unglamorous aspects of mental illness, and how it not only affects the individual, but also the people around them. Budling off of this, another thing that I think Haig (and Silvera) does really well is avoiding the narrative pitfall of trying to frame mental illness as some kind of “hidden superpower” that the protagonist just needs to cultivate in order for them to live their best life, which a lot of fiction books tend to rely on. While Haig’s ultimate message is about accepting one’s mental illness, he still recognizes that mental illness -in his case, depression- can be a heavy burden, and that it is not something that can merely be switched on or off when it’s most convenient. While Reasons to Stay Alive is not the only nonfiction book about mental illness to take this approach (The Man Who Couldn't Stop by David Adam is another great book that does this), to repeat, I think framing mental illness as some kind of secret benefit in a lot of fiction nowadays is getting kind of trite. **One aspect that I feel is lacking with both books is that the protagonists are presented as unfortunate victims of circumstance. While this certainly does not diminish their struggles with mental health issues, I would like to add a bit of nuance to the conversation around men’s mental health and ask at what point does one stop being a “victim” and become more of a “perpetrator?” ** Hook: How much of your past are you really willing to confront? CORE WOUND: More than anything else, Eddie wants to be “normal,” and constantly feels like he has to make up for lost time. Secondary Conflict: Per the recommendation of his therapist, Eddie goes on antidepressants. While they seem to be helping, partway through the story, he has a falling out with his therapist and he quits his meds cold turkey, believing he is “taking back control of his life,” but in actuality this causes him to spiral into a vicious cycle of psychosis. How dare that fucking therapist make me relive that shit. It’s all part of her grand scheme, to humiliate me, and try and make me realize how big of a loser I’m supposed to be. That's the problem with these people: every time they see a problem, they have to turn it into a disease. They make me feel like there’s something wrong with me, that I’m the one who’s fucked up, and they give me all these bullshit pills so I’ll be hooked and Big Pharma can stay rich. I grabbed my bottle of Lexapro and threw it into the garbage. Can’t stay hooked if I can’t keep taking their pills. I felt empowered. For the first time, I was the one taking control of my own destiny. Fuck Dr. Sullivan and her therapy horseshit. I don’t have OCD. I’ve never had it. I’m just reacting naturally, but people like her want me to feel ashamed. Emasculated. This not only causes Eddie’s mental issues to get cranked up all the way to eleven, but he also experiences heightened paranoia, believing that everyone he encounters is plotting against him in some way, causing him to self-isolate even more than he already does and become a kind of hikikomori. At this point, the only thing Eddie wishes to do is ruminate on all of the mistakes that he has made throughout his life, which not only takes a toll on his mental health, but his physical health as well. Every interaction, every trip, every movement now had to be meticulously planned. If I was going to class, I had to think about the exact route I took in order to not be seen. If I was in the history department building, I had to time how long I was going to be there so that when I left, there would be practically nobody out and about. If I had to drive somewhere, I made sure that I took the route that would not go directly through campus. The grocery store might as well not have existed at this point. Almost all of my meals were ordered out. I used UberEats or DoorDash most of the time, too. The extra fee justified having as little human interaction as possible. The only thing that I seemed to enjoy was browsing my phone. I would scroll through Facebook or watch stupid YouTube videos for hours on end, neither activity producing any sort of value. Whenever I wasn’t in class, I encapsulated myself in my bedroom. Setting: The manuscript takes place in two periods in time: “Present Eddie” and “Past Eddie.” Present Eddie does not like the current situation he is in. He loathes his on-campus apartment not only because it is so austere, but because he feels like he is “stranded” from his parents’ house back home, which is where he feels much happier. As the story progresses, and Eddie goes to more therapy sessions, the reader is given more and more snapshots of “Past Eddie,” specifically two sequences as an undergrad (one where Eddie is at school, and one where Eddie is studying abroad), and even as far back as high school. Past Eddie is not as jaded and is even willing to take risks and be more “himself,” however this sometimes leads him to hurt the ones he most cares about, which he still harbors a lot of guilt over in the present day. Later on in the story, as Eddie suffers the effects of not taking his meds, the lines between Past Eddie and Present Eddie get blurred, to the point where he starts hallucinating.

The bus’s engine became louder as it approached the stop. Once the bus pulled over to let a group of students out, another group of students waiting on the platform moved closer to the vehicle to enter. Most of the new passengers sat down in the front row of seats. I chose to sit in the back, away from the rest of the crowd. I put my phone in my pocket and gazed out the window, into the adjacent forest. All of the trees were barren, and only a few leaves fluttered around them. Watching them gently sway back and forth filled me with such onerous contempt. These leaves didn’t have to do something, meet someone, and most importantly, they were under no obligation to be somebody. After some time, I began to fixate on my reflection in the window. Out of the corner, I saw a man running towards the bus as fast as he could. It was Adrian, my next-door neighbor, and the only person at this university whom I would willingly call my “friend”. As soon as he got on the bus, I waved towards him. “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked. “Ah, grand,” Adrian wheezed. “You?” “Pretty good,” I replied. I moved my backpack so he could sit down. “So, Ed, have you started your research yet?” I gave him a look. “Haha, I see. I gotta go to a meeting with my advisor, Janeck, before class. How’s your man, Paul?” “If you must know, Dr. Dickinson is doing fine.” Adrian laughed. “Y’know, you Americans are so formal. Just call the man ‘Paul.’ In Ireland we have no qualms about calling the professors by their first names.” “I’m not calling him Paul.” “Ok then, how about ‘Paulie’?” Adrian suggested. “No.” I tried to remain serious, but I also couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, I’ll do it,” Adrian teased. “Ok, have fun.” After we got off the bus, we started walking towards the history department. “Jesus, this feckin’ weather,” Adrian complained as he rubbed his hands together. “Heheh, not used to the climate on the other side of the pond, eh ‘Barbarossa’?” I said, gesturing at my friend’s red beard. “Good to see the German historian retains a sense of humor.” “Well, that’s because I’m not actually from Germany.” We share a laugh. Soon, we reached the department. I headed for the entrance as Adrian stayed behind to smoke. “I’ll see ya later,” I called out. “Yep!” Adrian waved, and then started fumbling with his lighter. I waved back, opened the door, and headed down the stairs towards my office. Having an office was one of the few things that I could feel proud of. Above my desk was a bookshelf with an assortment of texts. Most of them dealt with Germany and the Nazis, in both English and German to help me keep up my language skills. Some of the other books were about Russia, and the rest were about various other topics that piqued my interest. I closed my office door and headed towards the grad student lounge. Two of my colleagues were sitting at a table, chatting about their research. I said hello and sat down. Secretly, I wished that they weren’t there. “How’s the research going?” one of them asked. “It’s going good,” I told them, lying through my teeth. We made small talk. Sometime later, one of my colleagues looked at his phone. “I’m gonna go into the classroom,” he said. I followed him in. Soon enough, more people started to arrive. Adrian came in sat next to me. “Whadda you suppose is on the agenda tonight?” he asked. “Dunno, let’s find out.” I looked around the room at the rest of my cohort. I wanted to have better relationships with each of them, sharing my passion and knowledge with like-minded individuals, and had dreams of collaborating with them on projects that would define a grad student’s tenure. But those dreams never materialized. My worst fear was not saying the right thing or not using the correct jargon which would expose me as an imposter who did not deserve to be here. It didn’t take long for my fears to mutate, and before I knew it, I found myself worrying about my “uncouth and vulgar” interests outside of academics which would cause my highfalutin colleagues to ostracize me. Across the table, two people were having a conversation about Edward Said. I knew of Said, and had a vague idea of what Orientalism was about. In front of me was a perfect opportunity to bond with members of my cohort and ask questions in order to better understand one of the giants of academia. But I was petrified. After all, I should have memorized every word of what Said said as well as every other esoteric scholar before I dared to even think about applying to graduate school. Ten minutes later, the professor walked in and greeted everyone. Moment of truth, I gulped. After handing out the syllabi, the professor asked us all to share how our “projects” had manifested since the end of the previous semester. Each of us shared our plans. I was all the way at the other end of the table, so I had plenty of time to prepare what I was going to say. As I listened to my colleagues share their plans, I became more and more dismayed. Of course, I wished them all the best, and each of their topics sounded interesting, but at the same time, I didn’t think that my topic was as rigorous as everyone else’s. How are you going to hold up against THAT? my conscience nagged me. “And last but certainly not least, Eddie, what's your topic?” the professor inquired. The spotlight was now on me, and I could feel its heat. “Oh, well, um… so over the break I got the chance to look through the files of this guy who got my property taken by the Nazis and when World War II was over, I tried to get it back. Basically, during the process, I was in contact with a senator and I tried to persuade me to pass various pieces of legislation to help American citizens like himself.” “That sounds really interesting,” the professor smiled. “Do you know what you’re going to argue?” I was floored. All this time and I didn’t know how to answer the most important question! “Uh, not sure yet. There’s multiple avenues I could, um, take with this research,” I said, trying to stave the professor off. “Well, that’s why you’re here!” the professor said. I smiled. I know he was trying to encourage me, but on the inside, I was anything but content. Time started to slow down. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes into hours. I tried to focus on the seminar, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. The only thing I could think about was how I made a huge mistake by choosing to go to graduate school. You really fucked up this time. You can’t handle this much work. You’re not cut out for this. Look around you. All of these people are way smarter than you. The only reason you got into this program is because they needed to fulfill a quota and you know it. This is the end of the road for you. Look at the professor. You’re NEVER going to be like me. You don’t have the skills required. What the fuck are you going to do after you graduate. You’re not going to find a job. You’re going to be a fucking loser. Forever. The entire time, I could feel a tingling sensation in the back of my head. The sounds that emanated from the room felt amplified. Trying to sit still became increasingly difficult. I kept fixating on the professor’s suit and tie. Who am I compared to this man, with my cheap moccasins, and my polo that’s way too short and keeps getting untucked every time I move, and my belt that I had to borrow from my dad because I didn’t have one that looked nice enough? See that man, and his outfit? My conscience teased. He gets to wear that because he fucking earned it. You didn’t earn the right to look nice. You never have, and you never will. I looked over at the clock. Oh God, there’s still an hour left. All I wanted to do was jump out of my seat and get the hell away from here, as far as possible, and never look back. Fortunately, though, I would not have to wait too long. “Alright, if nobody has any questions, then I’ll see you next week,” the professor said. I packed up my belongings as fast as I could and sprang out of my seat. Free at last. Adrian appeared at my office door. “Hey, do you wanna go to trivia tonight?” “Nah, sorry, I got some stuff I need to do,” I replied. Socializing with my cohort was the last thing that I wanted to think about. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I said. I brushed past Adrian and bolted for the nearest exit. Outside, the wind harassed me as I headed for the nearest bus stop. My nerves felt like they were going to pop out of my skin. My head pounded. For a moment, I even thought someone was following me. I reached the bus stop and sat down on the frigid bench. I tried to relax. Class is over, you don’t have to worry. You can go home now and sleep. -No! No you can’t! You have to get working on this research RIGHT THIS FUCKING SECOND! How are you going to manage your classes and your TA responsibilities and your bills and your career and your friends and your family and your wellbeing and- I had to focus on something. But what? Uhh... the bus! C’mon, c’mon, where is this damn thing?! I stared down the street as if that would make it drive faster. Several minutes later, I saw the shuttle round the corner. I climbed aboard and sat down in the closest available seat. My nightmare was over, for now.

Hello everyone, it's nice to meet all of you. Below are my seven assignments: Story Statement: Eddie does not have good mental health. Antagonist: The main antagonist of my manuscript is, strangely, also the protagonist. Eddie struggles with the dark triad of anxiety, depression, and OCD. While Eddie understands that his mental health is not in good shape, and needs to figure out a way to become better, he is constantly sabotaging himself by reverting to his “old ways,” to the point where it is now threatening to push Eddie over the edge. Potential Manuscript Titles · High Climber · I Against I · Melt all Your Memories Comparable Titles History Is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera- Silvera’s novel does several things really well that have inspired me when writing my own manuscript. First of all, Silvera does a great job at not only highlighting mental health struggles among young boys, he also provides a lot of great insight into OCD, a disease that still has a lot of misconceptions around it. While many stories highlight the “compulsions,” or what most outside observers see, Silvera also sheds light on the “obsessions,” or what’s going on inside. Furthermore, History Is All You Left Me does a great job at alternating between past and present narratives, something that I feel is vital for telling a story focused on mental health. I seek to build off of History Is All You Left Me by expanding the focus beyond how “young” adults struggle with mental health, and also look at how “new” adults deal with mental health issues. Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haig- Matt Haig’s hybrid novel/memoir (I’ve seen it called both so I’m not really sure what to classify it as) does a great job at showing the reader many of the unglamorous aspects of mental illness, and how it not only affects the individual, but also the people around him. Budling off of this, another thing that I think Haig (and Silvera) does really well is avoiding the narrative pitfall of trying to frame mental illness as some kind of “hidden superpower” that the protagonist just needs to cultivate in order for them to live their best life, which a lot of fiction books tend to rely on. While Haig’s ultimate message is about accepting one’s mental illness, he still recognizes that mental illness -in his case, depression- can be a heavy burden, and that it is not something that can be turned on or off when it’s most convenient. While Reasons to Stay Alive is not the only nonfiction book about mental illness to take this approach (The Man Who Couldn't Stop by David Adam is another great book that does this), to repeat, not a lot of contemporary fiction books about mental health -especially those with a young protagonist- take this approach. In essence, my manuscript seeks to be a synthesis of both Reasons to Stay Alive and History Is All You Left Me in order to ask some of the tough questions about mental health that may not often get asked. **One aspect that I feel is lacking with both books is that the protagonists are presented as unfortunate victims of circumstance. While this certainly does not diminish their struggles with mental health issues, I would like to add a bit of nuance to the conversation around men’s mental health and ask at what point does one stop being a “victim” and become more of a “perpetrator.” ** Hook: How much of your past are you really willing to confront? CORE WOUND: More than anything else, Eddie wants to be “normal,” and constantly feels like he has to make up for lost time. Secondary Conflict: Per the recommendation of his therapist, Eddie goes on antidepressants. While they seem to be helping, partway through the story, he has a falling out with his therapist and he quits his meds cold turkey, believing he is “taking back control of his life,” but in actuality this causes him to spiral into a vicious cycle of psychosis. This not only causes Eddie’s mental issues to get cranked up all the way to eleven, but he also experiences heightened paranoia, believing that everyone he encounters is plotting against him in some way, causing him to self-isolate even more than he already does and become a kind of hikikomori. At this point, the only thing Eddie wishes to do is ruminate on all of the mistakes that he has made throughout his life, which not only takes a toll on his mental health, but his physical health as well. Setting: The manuscript takes place in two periods in time: “Present Eddie” and “Past Eddie.” Present Eddie does not like the current situation he is in. He loathes his on-campus apartment not only because it is so austere, but because he feels like he is “stranded” from his parents’ house back home, which is where he feels much happier. As the story progresses, and Eddie goes to more therapy sessions, the reader is given more and more snapshots of “Past Eddie,” specifically two sequences as an undergrad (one where Eddie is at school, and one where Eddie is studying abroad in Germany), and even as far back as high school. Past Eddie is not as jaded and is even willing to take risks and be more “himself,” however this sometimes leads him to hurt the ones he most cares about, which he still harbors a lot of guilt over in the present day. Later on in the story, as Eddie suffers the effects of not taking his meds, the lines between Past Eddie and Present Eddie get blurred, to the point where he starts hallucinating.