FRANK SINATRA AND ME ALONE IN MY CIVIC

It's been so long since my last entry that I forgot how to access blogger. And, when I tried to put Sinatra's photo in here, the process is different than before. What a mess. 

Nothing new to report. My poetry did appear in Adelaide. Still waiting for Zero Dark Thirty poem to appear. Wonder if it is delayed by the plague? 

I'm about 2/3 of the way through rewrite of novel The Porn Writer now. I keep sending out stories and poetry. 

Why do I mention, Sinatra? Lately, I've begun to carry several CDs in the Civic of music from my childhood, teens and twenties. Trying to reawaken an old self for, hopefully, creative purposes. Pete Seeger, Simon and Garfunkel, hits from 1941 when my parent's divorced and I turned 4. Sinatra of course. And Barbra Streisand too, but, you know what? She sounds trite and much too cutsey. Sinatra and the others hold up. I know Dylan ought to be in the mix too, but I don't have one of his CDs. 

As I announced in another venue, my prostate cancer remains in my prostate even thought my PSA made a leap. Just had bone and torso scans that came up clean. Feel energized to keep working after some falloff of energy. 

GALLERY 360 BOOK FAIR A TRIUMPH

They bought my book, Tenderfoot

I sold four books at the Gallery 360 Book Fair put together by Peggy Bird and promoted strongly by Clark County Poet Laureate Chris Luna. Mertie came down to Gallery 360 to take a look and bought 9 books from one of the other book sellers...children's books for her nieces and nephews in Spokane. We're losing money, but who cares, as long as writers and poets get the money. We're heading to Spokane during whatever week of July holds the 13th... Mertie's birthday. 

The young man, above, opened Tenderfoot and began to read the following poem: 

SKATING THIN ICE

 

Stepping from the landlocked trees to ice,

On thin, steel blades, the skater leaves

His two sure feet and sails;

     He skims the grey-smooth ice on out

To places where the firmness softens and water's deep.

There, black holes gape and bubbles rise

Through thick, black water like thoughts of gods.

     That far out on flying edges,

The skater's body quails with soaring fear,

And shore fires cast a fitful light

On small musings that freeze like cubes of ice;

     That far out

The rugged shore and threadbare trees

Seem dreams that edge a frozen universe

Where bubble thoughts drift up through thick

Black air on spumes of mist to burst away,

     And water's deep.

I told him I thought the poem was about taking intellectual risks, about thinking like an atheist...or something like one. 

Still no news on the novels and short stories I have in circulation. Down to two chapters on the rewrite of the novel Programming Frank Singletary that was once upon a time called The Porno Writer.

HENRY MILLER, STEP ASIDE. HERE COMES THE BEATNIK BOOMER

Can't tell you how much this 77 year old writer is enjoying the rewriting of his novel, The Porn Writer, once known as The Porno Writer. I wrote the novel when I lived on Cannon Street in Spokane, Washington. That period in my life was when I also wrote all the poetry that is now included in Gray House By Cold Mountain which is probably the most authentic poetry I've ever written. So far, I've already rewritten 11 chapters, nearly 100 pages, in a week and a half of work. Everything about this novel thrills me and carries me forward. I'm excited to rediscover all I put into it. For some damn, probably fearful, reason, I put the novel aside, finished but discarded for some reason. As I slowly rediscover this novel, I'm excited at how it deals with the many issues I faced in my own recovery from alcoholism and also worked through my issues with women. The style and subject matter is a shocker for the timid, but how else can the timid, as I was timid, deal with sexual matters except by exploring them unabashedly and forthrightly? 

BEATNICKING MY WAY THROUGH THE FINAL REWRITE

Scandinavians are happy. Me too!

Today, I reworked the first 27 pages of Ghoul World, aka the Manning novel, smoothing out the rough patches and making consistent the cultural effects and the feel of this futuristic work. The book reads pretty damn good. My wife finished reading it last week and was pleased with it. When I suggested she's biased and might lie to me about the novel, she tells me, "I don't like your novel, The Porno Writer." Well, that's true enough, even though I plan to rework it next................ I think. She found no major plotting errors. That was a great relief to me. 

I spent only two days going through the entire novel and correcting all the grammatical and logical errors that Mertie red penciled for me as she read it. Thanks to her for that read through very much. If all continues as today did, the rewrite ought to be done in no more than a month. Maybe two. Once I get 1/2 way through, I'll start sending it out to agents. That first submission is going to be nerve wracking. I'm expecting this to be published, a movie even, but what writer doesn't feel that way?

I'm specially happy with how the novel ended. I wasn't certain until the very end how it was going to feel, and as the final two chapters flowed out on the computer screen, I was as excited by how it looked and felt as if I was a new reader, rather than the author who slogged away at it for two plus years.

EVEN BEATNIKS GET THE HOTS ... FOR CREATIVE WRITING

Find photo source here.

The years 2013-14 have turned out to be a most successful period. Poetry published in three places and anthologized in two other places, a poem won a spot in a local contest that joined art to poetry, a humorous health piece appeared in a local senior's magazine, a creative tribute to the Kiggins, our local art house, in another publication (thanks Olin Unterwegner), and a short story in a third (tip of hat to Julie Madsen). Three opportunities to be a featured poet, due to the help of poet and friend, Christopher Luna. A complete rewrite of one novel finished and, as you who read this know, I'm nearing completion of the first draft of a new science fiction novel. Stimulated by these events, in the last two weeks, I dug out three of my best short stories and reworked them, intending to submit, and, tonight, I finished a two day stint of reworking of Chapter One of an old novel, The Porno Writer, that I have great ambitions for. I've put in close to 8 hours of writing each day recently and can't wait for each new day's dawning to do more writing. Finally, I'm looking seriously at putting together a ms of short stories and, perhaps, looking at my accumulated unpublished poetry to find enough suitable ones to make up a third poetry ms. Ambition, hopes and lots of writing? Pretty good for a 77 year old once upon a time beatnik writer. In 2012, I wouldn't have imagined these last two years turning out this way. Now wouldn't it be nice if a little money came along with it?

SILENT COMPLETES THE LAST REWRITE OF ANGIE'S CHOICE

A happy note! Wife Mertie did the final reread of Angie's Choice today. Five last chapters and only about six errors found. I will not look at it again, except to send it around to agents and directly to publishers. I culled through the 2013 Writer's Market and built a huge list of possible publishers. More of the kind of work that it would be nice to have an agent do for me as Agent Ruth Cantor once did for me back in the 1980s. 

Today I went into Portland to the Humanists of Greater Portland Sunday meeting. Then took an hour walk in downtown Portland and realized, as I enjoyed my walk, that under my original plan (to get someone other than myself to publish a book of mine) there lies another plan—to make enough money from one or the other of my novels to buy a modest condo in Portland. Well ... I'm 76 now and might just as well dream big as small. Eh? Of course the book I'm pinning my hopes on is Manning (working title). Also in the wings for complete revision is my most serious novel, Delinquent Lives. The Porno Writer could be a scorcher if I can write a final polished draft of it. It's done, but needs polishing. I think there's work enough ahead to carry me to the crematory but into a Portland condo...?

REAL BEAT BOOMER PLOTTING ALONG HIS WAY

the whole scene

Of my four completed novels—The Man In The Mirror, Delinquent Lives, Angie's Choice, The Porno Writer—the book I'm currently rewriting, Delinquent Lives, is the most difficult to disentangle. I've been forced to sit down and graph the plot. 

a detail

When I wrote this book, I didn't rely on plot. By switching back and forth between two limited points of view, I saw the book as developing by giving the reader bits and pieces of information about each of the two main characters that would add up to a full psychological profile of them and justify how they came out as the novel concludes.  

Delinquent Lives does develop along a chronological order, but I've used so many flashbacks, I can see where a reader might be put off from reading to the finish. Continuity is problematical. I was letting my love of Fellini's "8 1/2" influence me. Fellini believed his audience had the knowledge to understand what he was doing, but reading a book is different than watching a movie.

I can see the psychological rationales to most of the decisions I made about scene placements, and I tried to make each event have it's own intrinsic tension, but as I rewrite all these years later, I discover scenes and information whose necessity I have to question. Again and again I learn that an old cat can learn new meows if he's motivated enough.