BOOMER BEATNIK GETS A BOOST

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Currently rewriting  a short story I first put on paper—yes, lined paper and pen—sometime during Fall of 1964 through February 1966 while floundering as a teaching assistant on the campus of Southern Illinois University—The Acceptance of Jane. The first version is very simplistic, almost childish, written in an emotional burst of high energy, and I more or less set it aside for 50 years. Now I'm trying to give it some depth. It's original impetus was okay, but I tried to make an image carry the story and the narrator lacks sufficient depth. Of course, the narrator is an older man, looking back on a moment in his high school life. Such a narrative offers technical difficulties. How much does any adult narrator truly know about his past life, eh?

On a good note, I received an immediate rejection of a story I sent off last week, BUT the editor said the story was well done but too long for her magazine. Could I send a shorty piece of writing, she asked. You bet I could, and the turn around time was less than 24 hours. The magazine is located in Philadelphia, and I forgot to say, "Go Philanova". Basketball fans will recognize the reference. 

THE BEATNIK BRAIN ON SLEEP ... OR NOT ... ASPECTS

One of the most difficult aspects of writing at my age is getting enough sleep each night to bring a fresh mind to the task. Yawning my way through a manuscript doesn't lend itself to creative leaps of insight. 

Aspects ... that's a word that rings a synapse or two. I clearly recall, while I was failing to get my master's degree at Southern Illinois University, reading somewhere about teaching English 101 that the word "aspects" was being used way too frequently in scholarly papers and other essays. Don't recall who wrote the article in which that appeared or the rest of the article at all. All I recall is that one idea about that one word ... aspects.

source of photo found here

I'm doing a final rewrite of The Man In the Mirror, a final polish. Wife Mertie, seeing what I was doing as she headed off to bed and come to my side for our goodnight kiss, asked me what I was up to. She couldn't imagine I would be going through the novel again. Made me realize just how difficult and time consuming the writing of a novel is.

Another thing I realize as I go red-penciling through the first novel I ever wrote, and initially wrote in 11 weeks—I always work better on a hard copy rather than a computer screen when it comes to a final polish. Of course, a book is never completely finished in my mind. I don't care how often my brain rewrites, it will come up with another way to say almost anything it's tried to say another way. 

KENNETH HOPKINS...A GOOD WAY TO LEARN TO WRITE

Rewriting on Angie's Choice continues, and my wife has begun to read the yellowing, typewritten pages of a novel I wrote in 1965 while I was a candidate for a Masters in English at Southern Illinois University. She tells me without a trace of irony that she likes The Man In the Mirror.

Kenneth Hopkins and anonymous lady

British writer, Kenneth Hopkins, created the excellent opportunity to write that novel. He'd been a humor writer for Punch after WWII until a round of economizing cost him his position. He decided he had enough money to last two years and, with his wife's agreement, he took that time to write and sell a mystery. 

Hopkins was the first visiting writer I ever encountered at a university. SIU brought Hopkins over to teach one section in creative writing. First day of class, Hopkins announced there'd be only two grades in his course—A or F. If you completed a long project—poetry ms, novel or play—you earned an A. If you didn't complete a long project, you got the F. He never held another class but said he'd be available in his office if we gave him a call first. I sat my ass down and typed an 11 chapter novel in 11 weeks to earn my A. (The boundless energy of youth, eh?) Mr. Hopkins liked the novel so well he took it too England to show his editors. They said, "Have Mr. Thomas write a couple more novels, and he'll be able to rewrite and sell this." The story about what came between me and those "couple more novels" would fill a biographical chapter. Or two.