Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Nothing Written, Nothing Gained

Truer words were never spoken. So, what have I been doing with my own bad self? Not much. I have been focused on planning for my classes and deciding what to do with my life – after all, there is nothing like a shiftless middle aged English Teacher to repulse and repel fans, right?

My friend has been acting, see www.Tonkin.com to watch his commercial – he’s the dude with the loose tie. Just scroll down until his mug appears and then click on it. We went to college together.

You can also see him at www.youtube.com, type in No Red Ribbons.

My new one is coming out, but I have lost the love. I think it will be out at www.RedRosePublishing.com on February 27th, but I am not sure. I like this book, but promoting books is like ...is like...is like...insert simile here. It’s a Roman adventure, sometimes you lose and need to die like a Roman.

Other times, you win. When you win, you get to die like Caesar. Great choices, huh?

I heard a report today that claimed depression is at it’s most dire when men hit 44. Life satisfaction can be charted as a U. Youth rates high satisfaction, as does old age, but at the bottom of the U, the depth of depression, it bottoms out at 44.

Nice to know. Now what?

So, I am melancholy at best. Cheer me up. SpikeFremont@aol.com

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Holiday Hangover

I have been subjected to a nasty hangover of holiday spirit and a more malicious malady; a not so infectious disease, known to afflict part time writers in particular; lack of commitment. I prefer to think of it as other responsibilities, but the truth is that it is a failure on the sufferer’s part to make time to write – anything – blogs, journal entries, notes, letters, e-mails; the affliction isn’t very discriminatory and exercises a scorched earth policy when it is allowed to fester, as mine has.

The afflicted is naturally more critical of the lack of performance – writers tend to be more introspective than others, and therefore hypercritical, especially when applying criticism reflexively. It doesn’t help to go on a voyeuristic literary binge, that is, a reading jag, like I have. I’ve been motivated by others, by vocation, and by a selfish desire precipitated by excessive idle time, also known as the devil’s tools.

With all of the aforementioned conspiring to create the perfect storm, I took a break and read. What did I read? Well, I’ll tell you. It started with Almost Moon by Alice Sebold, then it was Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, Out of Sight by Elmore Leonard, Atonement by Ian McEwan, a rare foray into nonfiction with The School of Great Expectations by Dan Brown, no, not that Dan Brown, and culminating with my current crutch, Julius Winsome by Gerard Donovan, given to me by a friend who might become a former friend based on the path of the novel – I like it, but it is twisted. So, that is how I spent the last two weeks.

The result is a conflicted writer not willing to call himself a writer based on the overwhelming talent he has recently exposed himself to. I live to write about myself in the third person, I sound so...stoopid.

“Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” is doing well, it was on the Bestseller list for RedRosePublishing.com in November and is still available. “A Slice of Life” is coming soon, but no firm release date yet – there may be some issues with cover art, but the editing is done. And I continue on my merry way, reading and not writing. I think I may need to change that.

Do you agree?