<![CDATA[CRACKMASK

<![CDATA[CRACKMASK - Blog]]>Sat, 16 May 2026 11:48:39 +0100Weebly<![CDATA[Crackmask Blogs]]>Wed, 06 May 2026 23:00:00 GMThttps://www.crackmask.com/blog/crackmask-blogsHere you’ll find the echoes behind the memoir, small stories, recovered moments, and the thoughts that rise when you look back over a lifetime lived in the cracks and the light.]]><![CDATA[You've Been Tango'd a Long Time Ago]]>Fri, 01 May 2026 23:00:00 GMThttps://www.crackmask.com/blog/youve-been-tangod-a-long-time-ago

Just Sayin’... It’s Probably Not What You Think?

Riding high on a unicycle and squeezing out a tune on national telly, not bad for someone who’d barely crawled out of the nightmare that almost finished me off in the mid‑90s.

You’ll get the full story when you’ve survived the chapters that begin in 1952… just sayin’.

As for the caption on this photo: I don’t use any of my old stage names in the book, but Willie Eckerslike was my first Equity‑registered identity. I carried it for more than a decade, even though it meant absolutely nothing to anyone outside northern England.

Later, I became “Eckie... the artist formerly known as Willie Eckerslike,” around the same time this photo was taken by a dear friend, who I later lost to a fatal mental illness.

There’s a lot more behind this picture, and you’ll understand it all when you read the book.

]]><![CDATA[CRACKMASK FRONT COVER]]>Thu, 30 Apr 2026 23:00:00 GMThttps://www.crackmask.com/blog/crackmask-front-cover

On Monday, it will be 47 years since 4 May 1979. Yeah, that's 17,168 days, 2,452 weeks, each one lived in the long shadow of a moment that could easily have ended everything.

"And none of those days were shaped by any other 'historic' events happening in Britain that particular Friday, despite what the newspapers might say."
If I’m still here in three days, I’ll raise a quiet glass to the person who made it possible for me to live every single one of those days, the surgeon whose hands gave me the years I needed to grow, to survive, and eventually to write Crackmask.
And should the universe have other plans before Monday... I’ll say this now, while I can: the cover is complete.

Those bubbles were never just bubbles. They were the little joys I held onto, the ones I later learned to give away to people who had none.

This cover is a quiet reminder that even the smallest moments of light can survive the cracks and sometimes escape them.

]]><![CDATA[India - A Romantic Place for Crackmask Creator]]>Mon, 20 Apr 2026 23:00:00 GMThttps://www.crackmask.com/blog/india-a-romantic-plase-for-crackmask-creatorA Rare Old Photo

JUST SAYIN...

I’ve just rediscovered a rare old photo of myself from one of my times in India... No idea who took it or how it survived in a bag of forgotten pictures, but I’m glad it did.

I loved that white linen suit, even if Bombay’s pollution tried its best to ruin it.

And between the colour, the chaos, and the mysterious cigarettes I smoked back then, I very nearly married a delightful Indian lady named Ashwini.

There are a few chapters in Crackmask about those wild, romantic, unforgettable years.

Stay tuned...

]]><![CDATA[Hedonistic Times That Helped Creat Crackmask]]>Sun, 19 Apr 2026 23:00:00 GMThttps://www.crackmask.com/blog/hedonistic-times-that-helped-creat-crackmask

“From Chaos to a Life Less Ordinary”

I’ve lived on derelict ships, in circus tents, psychiatric wards, refugee camps, and royal palaces…

Breaking bones, breaking down, and reinventing myself more times than was sensible. CRACKMASK is the story of how chaos became a life.

Eddie 1997 - Hotel Danieli, Venice.

]]><![CDATA[Why Survivors Develop Deep Perception]]>Mon, 13 Apr 2026 23:00:00 GMThttps://www.crackmask.com/blog/why-survivors-develop-deep-perceptionThe Skill I Never Knew I Had

Over the years, I’ve realised something no therapist ever had to tell me: survivors often develop a kind of awareness most people spend a lifetime trying to learn.

Long before I knew the word for it, I was already practising it, scanning, adjusting, reading the room, reading myself. That was metacognition in its rawest form.

I grew up in unpredictable spaces, so I learned to think about my own thinking, just to stay safe. I watched, anticipated, regulated, analysed, not because I was wise, but because I had to survive.

And when that same awareness finally turned inward, it changed everything. Instead of “How do I avoid danger?” it became “What do I actually need? What do I believe? Is this thought even true?”

People call it overthinking. I know now, it’s perception finely tuned, hard‑earned, and powerful when it’s no longer anchored in fear.

Survival taught me to study every room and every adult. Healing taught me to study myself. That depth isn’t damage; it’s the intelligence I built under pressure, finally working for me instead of against me.

]]><![CDATA[Starting to Speak]]>Fri, 10 Apr 2026 19:59:29 GMThttps://www.crackmask.com/blog/starting-to-speakFragments That Finally Found Their Place.

Photo by Eddie Hawort... Watching the tide carry old stories into new waters

There are moments that return without warning, not to drag me backwards, but to remind me that some parts of a life refuse to stay buried. A smell, a sound, a half‑forgotten street can pull a thread loose, and suddenly I’m standing in two times at once: the man I was, and the man who somehow made it through.

For years, I kept moving across countries, jobs, communities, and versions of myself. Movement felt safer than stillness. Stillness meant remembering, and remembering meant facing things I didn’t yet have the language for. It took decades, and the slow, stubborn work of writing Crackmask, before I realised that the memories I’d spent a lifetime outrunning were the very ones that shaped the work I ended up doing with others.

What surprised me most wasn’t the pain itself, but the clarity that came with finally turning toward it. I began to see how the places that broke me also remade me, how the people I met along the way left marks that were far kinder than the ones I started with, and how a life can be rebuilt from the inside out even when the foundations look beyond repair.

And I know I’m not alone in that. Most of us carry things quietly. Most of us learn to survive long before we learn to understand what survival has cost us. Sometimes it takes a single moment, or a single question, to shift the direction of a life. Sometimes it takes years. Sometimes it takes a book.

As I move toward the publication of Crackmask in June, I’ll be sharing more of these fragments: the memories that stayed with me, the ones that surprised me, and the ones that only made sense once I finally stopped running. There’s more to come, and more still settling into place.

If you’d like to follow this journey as it unfolds, you’re welcome to join my mailing list.
’ll share occasional updates, new writing, and the steps leading toward Crackmask’s publication in June 2026, nothing noisy, just the things worth passing on.

CONTACT EDDIE

]]><![CDATA[Crackmask is Blooming]]>Wed, 08 Apr 2026 23:00:00 GMThttps://www.crackmask.com/blog/crackmask-is-bloomingThank You.

From These Small Bright Beginnings
to the Book Launch Ahead

A bright reminder that progress comes in clusters, not leaps.

I chose this picture for a reason. There’s something about those bright red berries, small, tough, and growing anyway, that felt right for this moment. This book project has been a long season of gathering what I could, holding on through setbacks, and trusting that something would eventually take shape. And now, it finally has.
I want to thank every single person who helped me get this far. Your support through GoFundMe, plus messages, and through simple belief has carried Crackmask further than I ever could have managed alone.
It took me a while to write this update because I wanted to wait until I could say, with certainty, that I finally have enough to publish the book. That moment arrived only recently. I sold my old car (more “held together by hope” than “classic treasure”), and together with your donations, it gave me the last push I needed.
I couldn’t have done this without you.
Crackmask should be available online and in hard copy by late‑June 2026, still a surreal sentence to type.
Until then, I’m sharing pre‑launch snippets, behind‑the‑scenes notes, and little pieces of the journey on the website, things only followers can see. If you’d like to follow along as this project ripens into something real, you can find it here:
www.crackmask.com
Thank you again for helping this story grow. What you’ve given me isn’t just funding, it’s momentum, courage, and the sense that this strange, stubborn little book is finally ready to be picked.
And I’m glad you’re here for this part of the journey.

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