Explore the world of writing with Mathew Gilbert.
Mathew Gilbert
I work with my hands for a living. I fix things that are broken, keep people moving, and carry responsibility whether I feel like it or not. I’m an elevator mechanic, a husband, and a father of five — and I write because it’s the one place I don’t have to be what the world expects me to be.
Writing is where I take control. It’s where the pressure goes when you’re told to keep it together, stay quiet, and handle it. I don’t write to escape reality — I write to face it on my own terms. No filters. No explanations. If someone asks why a line exists, the answer is simple: that’s what the character felt, and it needed to be said.
People mistake a hard exterior for a lack of depth.
The truth is I feel things deeply. I overthink. I question myself. I try to be better — not because it’s trendy, but because people depend on me. Writing is where I let the weight land without dumping it on the people I care about.
I’m interested in emotional, uncomfortable, and controversial stories. Not political views. Not talking points. Real perspectives. I write about men and the expectations placed on them, about voices that don’t get heard, and about the questions most people avoid because they don’t come with clean answers. Life isn’t neat. People aren’t simple. I don’t pretend otherwise.
I don’t write to be famous. I write because maybe someone who’s ignored, worn down, or barely holding it together will recognize themselves in these pages and realize they’re not broken — and they’re not alone. If a story forces someone to sit with a hard thought, see another perspective, or choose a better option than the one in front of them, then it did its job.
The Work
Uncertain Existence
Uncertain Existence is a quiet, unsettling exploration of choice, consequence, and the internal battles people fight long before anyone notices. It follows a young man navigating a world that offers answers too quickly and understanding far too late — where expectations are heavy, silence is normal, and the cost of being overlooked compounds over time.
This isn’t a story driven by spectacle or easy explanations. It’s built on emotional weight, perspective, and the moments that don’t announce themselves as important until it’s too late. The kind of moments that feel familiar, uncomfortable, and painfully real.
Rather than telling the reader what to think, Uncertain Existence asks questions most people avoid — about responsibility, identity, and how much pressure a person can carry before something gives. It looks at the spaces between right and wrong, strength and vulnerability, action and inaction.
This book isn’t meant to entertain passively. It’s meant to sit with you. To make you pause. To leave you thinking long after the final page.
If you’re looking for easy answers, this isn’t it.
If you’re willing to sit with hard questions, you’re in the right place.