Archive for March, 2012

The “You Belong” Anthology

As I’d mentioned in a previous post, my short story, “Tail Gunner” has been accepted into the Longmont Public Library’s The You Belong Collection: Writings and Illustrations from Longmont Area Residents” anthology, ISBN 9780615612157. The book will be available April 9th, 2012, for $15. Check out their What’s New link for updated in formation, come April.

Initially the anthology is only available through the Longmont Public Library, but in the near future, says Mr. Kenworthy, Systems Administrator and Head of Technical Services at the library, and Point Man for the project, they plan on having it available through Amazon.com. Interested in a copy? Contact:

Steve Kenworthy
Systems Administrator/Head of Technical Services
Longmont Public Library
409 4th Street
Longmont, CO 80501
303-651-8614
Steve.Kenworthy@ci.longmont.co.us

On April 9th (Monday), the Longmont library is also hosting an open house, from 6:30 to 9 p.m., and on April 13th (Friday), a booksigning of local authors, from 1 to 5 p.m. I will be attending both events, and offered to read “Tail Gunner” at the April 9th Open House. All anthology proceeds go to the library.

Congratulations to all who were included in The YOU BELONG Collection! I look forward to meeting you–and the staff of the Longmont library!

“Tail Gunner” accepted in Longmont Library Anthology

I have just been informed that my short story, “Tail Gunner,” originally published in issue #103 of The Black Sheep, is to be published in “The You Belong Collection: Writings and Illustrations from Longmont Area Residents” anthology, available April 9th, 2012, for $15. Though I live a little south of Longmont, it’s an honor to have been selected! As I become more aware of availability, I’ll post it here, but you could definitely contact the following:

Longmont Public Library

409 4th Avenue

Longmont, CO 80501

General Information Desk: 303/651-8470

This is my first anthology, and I’m really psyched about “Tail Gunner” heading toward a wider audience!  Nearly 300 submission were received, and I’m glad to have finally been included in the “accepted” category, though feel for all those not accepted (keep trying–never give up)!

Kitten v. TWO Scary Things! Don’t Watch Alone (but bring LOTS of popcorn…)!

Be afraid.  Be VEWY afraid….

The Misunderstood Writer

English: The rock band The Misunderstood.

Yesterday I posted a reblog about a “few words from Stephen King.” And…I made some comments. Well, as I thought more about what I wrote there, it weighed on my mind some, until a decidedly male voice in my head said “All right!” early this dark morning, as in “enough!” (Yes, it really was a voice I heard–not me speaking, as I lay in bed this morning…).

I am sensitive to people’s plights. About having difficulty in one or another area of one’s life. Of continuing to do your damned best, yet nothing seems to come from it…but what set me off on my comment to the post was the whole “I’m so different nobody understands me” piece. Sob stories. About how writers are so different, so “out in the ozone,” that no one can relate to them so “they” have to be with their own kind. I mean no disservice to Mr. King (and it’s not just Mr. King I’ve heard this particular sentiment from), not one bit. He has his opinions, I have mine, you have yours, and we’re free to agree or disagree. But it was something I clearly wanted to expand upon.

First off, if you’re a writer…and no one understands you…you have no one but yourself to blame. You obviously didn’t do a good enough job getting your point across.

That’s the ugly truth of it.

And as to whether or not a Creative Type can live with a Normal Human–I’m evidence of that. I am frequently asked how I can write what I do, and how I do not seem like what I write. Just because you write crazy, does not give you license to behave crazily in life and in your relationships. You’re Human, and all humans, every one of us, think about the weird and off-center to some degree. Thinking and doing are two different things. We’re all built to do something in the life we live, and writers write.  If we can channel these thoughts and out-there ideas into publically acceptable (and sometimes not) coherent prose or poem, that’s what we do. Don’t bother trying to reverse engineer it. Figure us out. It’s like reverse engineering a gardener, a rock, or bird. It’s what that individual is meant to do, and more often than not, they can’t explain it either.

Accept it and move on.

Now, perhaps this plays into Mr. King’s “creative writing can’t be taught” statement, but it seems to me that the point of the mechanics of writing is to get something down. Communicate that something either to yourself or another. If no one is “getting” you (perhaps including oneself?), there’s an obvious disconnect, here.

Similarly, if any creative type is “too out in the ozone,” then how do they communicate with the masses, which is, it seems to me, what Creative Types do. Okay, expression of something, in and of itself, but it seems to me that most feel an overpowering distress to express their creations to others. So, if you don’t adequately communicate, how does anyone appreciate? How do you build a following so that when you do go to “like-minded people,” said Creative Type would find someone to sleep with? Okay, raging hormones, tattoos, and long lonely nights aside, would most people want to [continue to] sleep with someone that alien to them? One they just could not figure out? Continue to sleep with them after the initial fire, passion, and excitement wore off? Stranger things, I guess.

But I’ve run into–and at times felt so myself–”misunderstood” more than once in my life on this planet. It’s okay to feel the pain of what you’re trying to do not hitting its projected mark, but after the initial disappointment, all misunderstood artists need to get back on their feet and take a good, hard look at themself.

Am I a good enough artist? Can I make myself better?

Am I not a writer, but an actor?

Am I more of an activist?

Am I more the quiet, behind-the-scenes helping type?

The misunderstood writer needs to step back and analyze what’s working and what’s not, then get their ass in gear and make things better. Readjust the medium. Not bemoan and mope around the globe decrying how unfortunate and misunderstood they are (<insert tears, here>).

A Word About “too much air and light.”

I would agree…to a degree.

I think sometimes writing (or anything creative, for that matter) can become [overly] sanitized. Sometimes, I feel, perfect grammatical structure and mechanics get in the way of the story. The “rawness”…can be eviscerated from the work. Sure, you have to make your work presentable in your area of creation (novels, screenplays, totems…), but you also have to know when to stop. If you work it over too much, take other people’s recommendations too much, you kill the impact.

Go with your gut.

Don’t worry how incensed or indignant others may be about your work.

If your work is good, truly good, it will stand on it own. Others will get it. They may not like it, but they will get it. But, you just can’t please everyone. There will always be those looking to criticize something you put out there (look at me, now). Thing is, try to be respectful and open. Be willing to apologize when needed, because someone with an issue you wrote about didn’t like your presentation of it and felt you condescending.

Be gracious.

But when it comes to your work

Be brutal and unflinching.Don’t overwork your efforts. Don’t let too much worry about public rejection or indignation cause you to “smooth out its edges.” Dull the impact.  You’re a Creative Type.

Be creative.

A few words from Stephen King

Reblogged from Simon Read:

  • Click to visit the original post

While cruising around Youtube last night, I stumbled across a 2009 BBC interview with Stephen King (I've posted the video clip below). The interview is split into several parts, during which King discusses his career and thoughts on writing. Most interesting are his views on teaching creative writing. Basically, he says creative writing classes exist so writers who can’t make a living writing can make a living teaching.

Read more… 383 more words

This interview is interesting. But, I'm one of those Zen optimists who feels ANYTHING is possible. I, however, do agree that to be a writer one does have to read and write. Well, at the very least WRITE (who am I to say what one should or shouldn't do to be a writer?). Rinse and repeat. As to taking courses, attending conferences, that's for the INDIVIDUAL to decide. Weird is as weird does, and if a writer WANTS to feel different and difficult and misunderstood and have trouble finding someone and living a normal life BECAUSE of what they write, that's THEIR business. It's not a given. Not a "must be." Your life is yours as you create it. Quit crying about "being so different," being so disaffected, and DO something about it...whatever that means to you. You want a mate--find one. Want to be understood or misunderstood--your choice. Those...are MY beliefs. What are yours?

Promotion vs. Promotion

Spy vs. Spy

Image via Wikipedia

Such an ugly word to some, choiristic (that a word?) angels and bright lights to others. But a genuine concern to anyone who has anything to sell.

How much is too much?

Just yesterday a friend and I exchanged an e-mail on why some booksignings may or may not be getting the quantity of people to them they used to in the past. The topic arose about social media. That now, on Twitter,  Facebook, and you-name-it, everyone knows about everyone’s nosepicking, butt-wiping, teeth brushing habits, so there’s little left to the imaginaton…little mystery left to authors. Many claim social media the cure-all to selling anything, others, like The Red Pen Of Doom, decry diametrically. I am somewhere in the middle, but basically subscribe to the notion that it’s all “word of mouth.” Pick your platform, pick your poison, but I feel it doesn’t necessarily matter what your poison is, if it’s at all interesting to anyone, it will sell. I also believe in the Zen of life, and that applies to everything (so there’s always a Zen reason for why anything may or may not succeed as the owner may wish it to, and that trumps most of this discussion…). Sure, it has to get out there, but that’s where one’s poisonous platforms come into play. Once it’s out there, there simply has to be interest, and I feel basic “backyard clothesline telegraphy” can get the job done just was well as any TV advertisement, YouTube, or tweet. Because it all comes into play when people are interested in anything.

So, while I agree with much of Mr. Red Pen, and greatly like what he has to say, I disagree in that anything can sell anything. There just has to be some kind of a fire lit under it. And I can’t tell you what that fire is. It could your burning wit, your good looks, your eloquence. Your tireless promotional energy. Yes, it could still be Oprah.

Hell, it could even be your powerfully delivered story, characters, and message.

Now, I’m a huge fan of mystery. I realize long ago, I don’t really and necessarily want to know a movie star’s political alignment, nor an author’s brand of toothpaste. We all have our quirks and weirdness, and I don’t think we need to broadcast every little thing about ourselves. I love the imagination, and I love to What-if. I think we all need a little mystery left to our lives, left to our imaginations…these will help fire our imaginations. Imagination is important. It fuels pretty much everything about our lives. We imagine to do better, to go farther, to grow and improve. If every little thing about about every little thing is laid out bared and eviscerated, it can well kill (at the very least blunt) the imagination. An ability not used atrophies. It also takes away the fun, and there’s something to be said for experiencing more fun in our lives…perhaps now more than ever. Deadening our imagination takes away our ability to think for ourselves. Leave a little meat on the bone, for crying out loud, and let your imagination run wild, not your tweets.

So, in summary (I’m imagining myself before a packed lecture hall…), all I’m saying is, is that anything could sell your wares. Literally anything. And that we need to allow mystery back into our lives. Not always going for the explicit the minutiae inundated lifestyle that seems to have overtaken us. I hope to prove this in the near future, but it’s what I truly believe.

In the interests of promotion, I’ll be in Longmont, Colorado, April 13th, for an en masse booksigning at the Longmont Public Library. I’ll be signing my novel, Sleepwalkers. Hope to see you there!

Also, in interests of promotion, I’ve created a new blog site, called Reality Check. We’ve all had weird things that have happened to us throughout our lives, so I thought I’d try a new site to handle this stuff, which greatly interests me, ever since I was a wee lad, and which factors in my fictional work.  I’m preferring to make this a positive site, not about the dark and the nasty.  There’s enough of that out there. This site is about the GOOD in life. Please check it out!

Just had this epiphany after having posted this earlier today (and maybe it’s not new to you, but it just hit me while I was washing lettuce in the kitchen sink): what if the real secret to utilizing social media in selling anything is not so much sellers and authors using it…but customers? That it’s in the customers’ best interests to FB and tweet the hell out of their praise for an item, since so many get upset at people sell their wares on Twitter, by e-mail, and perhaps even FB?

Thanks for stopping by and thanks for taking the time to read my posts!

Android Invasion

Reblogged from Abominations:

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Android Invasion is my imaginary electronic music group. Ideally, they would have put out the attached EP, Life at the Pace of Objects, in 1982, but a few things got in the way. Chief among them is the fact that I came up with the idea for the band last night. I was also nine years old in 1982, and unaware of the electronic music scene beyond the BBC Radiophonic Workshop's…

Read more… 393 more words

Get your dogdish hat on and crank up the Android Invasion!

Round and Round She Goes….

English: Roller skating around 1905

Image via Wikipedia

This weekend my wife and I did something we haven’t done in a while.

We got funky.

We got wild.

We kicked it up a bit.

We…roller skated!

We literally hadn’t done this in some 20 years!

Now, some might wonder, “Gee, was it like riding a bicycle?”

Well, sure, if that bicycle had Wheels of Death  roller skates on its wheels.

Wheels of Death.

You think I jest, but it’s weird strapping wheels onto your feet and expecting anything to be “normal.” Counterintuitive. Asking for trouble. It’s worse than slapping boards on your feet and plummeting down a slippery slope of frozen water.

But, it’s fun!

Now, in all honesty, I did think I’d pick it back up again rather quickly.

Yeahhh…didn’t happen.

No…it took a little while to get acclimatized to the whole…thing. Fun, yes, but it didn’t come back as quickly as I’d imagined it would. Last I remembered, I’d picked it up rather quickly (which I do remember being wowed by, at the time, so it really must’ve happened…), and had been zooming around that rink 20 years ago like a semi-pro in near no time. This did not happen this time around. Of course, I could have been heavily romanticizing the past, too, but see parenthetical statement above.

In any event, flying around in circles, with all ages and abilities in what quite seemed like a Roller Derby kill zone was cool. As I watched those more experienced than I, I tried to remember, to emulate, the body motion, the technique. Once or twice I quite emulated a Looney Tune cartoon than an experienced roller skater. And, weird person that I am, as I’m doing all this, I’m also thinking Hey, this must be creating new neural pathways and renewed muscle memory, because it’s, essentially, new activity–something I haven’t done before, in that it’s been 20 years….

It was then I alternated between all four limbs flailing wildly about and my legs spreading wide into a into a Chinese split the hard way–an inflexible, flat surface also coming up right quick before me.

Okay, be focused and in the moment, and all, but keep the philosophical musings for non-life-threatening situations.

So, my wife and I skated around separately, because (in my own words) I told her “You don’t want to be linked to me, skating around here.” In true wifely fashion, she overruled me, grabbed my hands, and she (show off) skated backwards, as we skated in unison. Of course, my words did come back to haunt her, as, I think on our second pass, “something happened,” we lost our symmetry and what grace we momentarily revelled in, and she was quick to cut me loose. Couldn’t blame her. Was doing the same, myself.

Love only knows so much sacrifice, you know.

We continued our hour or so of skating, laughing and amazed at how much fun this was and why the heck hadn’t we done this more?, when the lights went up and our rink time was over. A little sore, quite excited, we left the rink. As we removed our Wheels of Death, we were both reliving the moments on the rink, hoping to do this again–sooner–some day. We went out to eat afterward, both admitting to not admitting how sore various parts of our anatomy were…but genuinely happy they were. It was our badge of honor. No pain, no gain, maaan.

BTW, neither of us fell.

Read Across America, You Sneetches, Thar!

Read Across America

Earlier this week, I again read in one of my niece’s classes for the NEA Read Across America readathon. I’ve done this a couple times and really love it. It’s fun to sit, surrounded by all those inquisitive and wiggly little minds, their wide-eyes focused upon you in amusement and wonder! So attentive, openminded, and engaging! Their giggling energy rippling throughout their numbers (for they are legion…). Their playful laughter!

And to have my niece lovingly snuggle against my leg as I read…priceless.

It’s fun interacting with a roomful of them, listening to their surprisingly smart comments and “takes” on things. I try to remember what I was like at their age, and sometimes I can. I do remember the wonder I had for the world of words, of reading, I did a fair amount of it. I read about a book a week, through high school, sometimes more (I had chores and other, outdoorsy, stuff to do, too, you know…). I loved being transported away with words. Loved the images. Loved the medium itself…I did and still do really love books. Love not only their words but how they feel in my hands. Look on a bookshelf. Not a substitute for actually living one’s life, it was cool to know you could learn so much from books, even fiction. New words. New ideas. New places. Stretch one’s imagination….

And doing these reading sessions with these wonderful children brings such joy to one’s heart! If only for but a few moments, it takes me away from my worries and deadlines and minutiae. It puts me into their world. Their world of wonder and naiveté, chock full of what-ifs and clean slates!

Those who have stars upon thars!

I am so glad, that for however long I’ve done and may do it again, I’ve been able to bring a measure of joy to these youngsters! That however minute, I had some impact upon their collective lives. That I made a bunch of children I don’t even know (and one I do…) laugh and howl and oooh and ahhh. Listen to the words translated from a book, through my voice, meet their ears. Enter their minds.

And then I brought out the cookies….


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