words & worlds

I know zip about blogging. If you look to the right, you will see my text widget, “Muse Music”. I guess this is something that is permanent, not another blog entry. But that is what I want. I want to talk about the music I listen to when I’m trying to be creative (or at least, productive) and have it next to my other entries about my writing. I am sure someone knows how to do that, but I don’t.

It makes me want to cuss.

Which brings me to my title. Do I cuss in my posts or not? I really want to, but a big part of my writing is for Middle Grade readers and I do not want to wreck any innocent brains. On the other hand, I want to be authentic, and frankly, I swear up a storm at times, especially when sh…stuff doesn’t work (or I get lost trying to figure it out).

Getting this blog up and running is a true test of this question. I am pretty sure some of the other authors out there who write beautiful prose or self-help articles that end with “namaste”, have faced the same dilemma. I can just picture one banging out a love poem on a beat up, grease stained, grey IBM Selectric, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, while wiping beer froth off his chin with the sleeve of yesterday’s shirt. Yet, his blog reads like a kindergarten primer.

Sorry, I digress, although I think I just found a theme for my next short story.

I am not sure which way I will go, but for now, innocence is safe. Meanwhile, I should go change my shirt, and shave.

This is a big commitment and we all know how most men feel about commitment. My wife says I am not most men, but, that little bastard in my head says otherwise. It’s not my muse screaming at me to not waste what talent I may have, it is the same voice that whispers a symphony of doubt whenever I submit anything to anyone.

All this insecure crap aside, I don’t know if I can keep up with a blog about writing or the struggles with my writing, and keep my creative candle lit. It is more a practical concern that came to life on the twenty seventh anniversary of the day I proposed to my wife, which is Pearl Harbor Day. A day that will live in infamy.

I had three days before a contest submission deadline and like all truly committed artists, had nothing until the last minute. But when I finally did, it came out like the sweetest song. I was wiping away tears when I handed it to my wife for the first read through. A few edits, twenty five bucks, and I was done.

Literally, done. There was nothing left. The first week went by and not a single call from my keyboard. No itch to scratch, no journal notes, no flashes of anything. I just sat at my desk each day and felt like a total stranger. How was it possible, that I could create a story that would be read to thousands of children, and their children’s children, for countless generations, and have nothing else to give?

Christmas came and went and still nothing. So I did what any rational writer would do, I picked another contest with another deadline, set my mind to it, and waited. A trip to Barnes & Noble did no good. Listening through all of my albums just pissed off my neighbors and drove the dogs out of my office. Still nothing.

The deadline was looming and I could feel the opportunity to gamble on my brilliance slipping away. Pinterest came to my rescue. I get pins about cars, technology, sci-fi, abandoned homes, old barns and rustic design. One pin was of classic cars and another was a picture of an ancient barn leaning to the left. The window and door openings were beautiful trapezoids. This mash up of images gave birth to my short, short story, Hubcap Jones, and suddenly I was free to roam about my imagination.

The story is a little eclectic, but it did the trick. You can find it on my “stuff” page if you’re interested. Now, I’m finally back to the rewrite of the first book in my “Giants” series. I only hope this didn’t screw that up.

I was listening to Travelogue: Blues Traveler Classics when I wrote this. Have a taste at the music player.