BEATNIKING A PATH TO SUCKCESS

My oft stated goal in writing the futuristic novel Manning (working title) is to see if before I die I can get someone other than myself to publish a book I've written. I'm talking success, here, with a capital, SUCK! For publisher, film maker and for me.

In The Moral Animal, author Robert Wright uses Charles Darwin's life to demonstrate that human animals share values with other species. He points out that good monkey Darwin, for all that his ideas shocked the world, was very careful about his approach to relationships and to expressing his ideas. Darwin held back for 20 years announcing the facts he'd gathered because he didn't want to destroy his wife's faith, and he was choosy about his friends. As Darwin's influence and friendships grew among the intellects of his time, he slowly dropped friendships with people who were not as well known as he. Darwin did not consciously reject them. It just happened. The more he was caught up in success, the less time he had for many old friends. (Recall Woody Allen's Stardust Memories when an old neighborhood pal comes up to Sandy Bates and asks Bates if Bates remembers him? Pow!) 

On occasion, I've been in the presence of writers of distinction and have felt out of place with them. It's as if their experiences with financial success put them automatically into an experiential realm I'm not acclimated to. My reticence created my half of those situations. Let me tell you, if I hadn't had to deal with my personal issues before I could tackle the world of success, my life would have gone swimmingly different. I can see the experience for writing a successful book getting strong in me just as age is slowing my mental reflexes and memory. Will I reach the other side or fall through a crack in time?

OLD SILENT BEATNIK ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN

Joy! Joy! Not much to say today. About to go get Mertie for lunch. The writing went very well this morning as I created a scene between Manning and another being in which much was revealed and much hidden too so that the whole scene is rife with double meanings that the reader will understand later in the novel, and I don't mean double entendres either. It was great fun, but, Jeez, I wish I were younger. This writing would go so much easier and be fraught with much less worry if my brain were only 15 years younger. But, today, the hell with it. I feel joyous.

BIG MOUNTAIN TURNED INTO LITTLE BEATNICK MOLEHILL

The Gordian knot begins to unravel

For several days the writing has gone well. In the current chapter of Manning at page 170, I'm introducing one of several surprises planned for the novel. The reader will meet one of the several kinds of beings that inhabit Planet Earth 250 years from now, but I realized I don't have to show the reader the entire mystery of this character just yet. I think his name might be Neo D'Thal. I can still tease the reader, introduce this interesting character, but not reveal everything about him. What's been so smooth lately is that I can see ahead for several chapters again, and the pressure is off for awhile. This makes writing enjoyable, and I believe that this book could easily be published by someone other than myself and could easily be a movie. 

Tonight, Mertie and I watched Blood Simple, a Coen brothers film. They certainly know how to complicate a plot. Several times in the movie, I could hear them talking about the several possibilities for each scene so that the viewer is under constant tension. It was the Coen's first film, and I understand how professional they had to make it in order to build their future in the movie business.

BEATNIK SILENT SILENT NO MORE, THOUGH DAZED

Today, I've little to say as I got just 5 hours sleep. I had to wake up and worry about ... what? See, I already forget what crisis I was worrying about that woke me up early. However, I persevered and, tired as a thoroughbred horse after the Kentucky Darby, at least started a new chapter this morning. Because of all the rewriting, I haven't worked on a new chapter for quite some time. If my chapters had titles, today's beginning might be called "Manning Gets Roofied And Laid". Subtitled "among other things". But my spirits are still high and have been for several weeks now. I no longer despair of finding my way through to the finish. Tomorrow will be better I always say, hopefully.

SILENT RAGE EXPLODES INTO GASEOUS ELEMENT

First, let's get the worst out of the way first. 
I've nursed this cursed blame with lips pursed
Till I almost burst. Feels like I'm whipped with quirts,
And I don't know if I durst in verse
Complain, but my heart, to do it, thirsts:

Angry at Google in Vancouver

Google is a bastard company. I've been blogging on Blogger for decades, long before Google scarfed them up. Now, I play hell getting to the Blogger page where "thesilentboomer" resides. They continually try to force me onto Google+ and keep me away from the society of Facebook. I can easily get to "thesilentboomer", but only as a viewer. To get to where I can post a new post, I've got to stand on my head, repeat the "Star Spangled Banner" twice from last word to first while whistling "Dixie" through my keister. The whole thing really smells. 

But, more importantly, writing has gone very well for nearly 5 days. I mean rewriting has gone well. I'm only one chapter, chapter 28, from completing my second rewrite. As you recall, I removed chapter 7 and began a rewrite to make all things consistent with its removal, then, after I discovered a plausible explanation for the events in chapter 7, I returned it to the mss and began another rewrite to make all the other chapters consistent with that returned runaway chapter. Also, I've stuck to a rigid schedule of a page a day of transferring my first novel, The Man In The Mirror, from hard copy to editable files.

PS: I should mention that chapter 28 is, probably, only about half way through the finished book. Still a long write to go. 

ROYALTY CHECK HAS SILENT BEATNIK CROWING

Well, looks like this writing game is paying off big time. A royalty check from Authorhouse, my publisher. 

A long string of beautiful weather days ahead. Walking continues to entice me out from in front of my writing machines, both the desktop and the laptop. I'm happy if I get a couple of pages rewrite done in a day. I'm still rewriting the first 170 pages, having now removed and put back in the same chapter 7 twice and having to rewrite in order to make sure all is consistent with that chapter. I finally put the chapter back in, with one small variation in it, because it adds complexity and mystery to the novel. What I had to do was make sure that I understood all the ramifications of what the chapter 7 complications mean throughout the novel. Mainly, the difficulty had to do with who knows what when, as in ... if these people know this now, then it doesn't make sense when this other guy does that later. I still say plotting a mystery or detective yarn is more difficult than plotting a psychological novel. OR, maybe I'm just too old for any act of writing to be uncomplicated. Also, of course, I continue to read serious fiction and that gets my juices flowing to return to something other than a futuristic detective novel ... or is that just pee running down my leg?