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.

SNAKES IN THE GRASS BITE THE SILENT BOOMER

No writing today. Independence Day, 2013. Instead, my wife and I went hiking along the Clackamas River in the Mount Hood National Forest. It's been a rough 4 weeks of not getting much writing done what with cold, ennui and depleted energy supplies, and various psychological snakes-in-the-grass like we encountered on our hike today, but tomorrow have plans to do more rewriting on Angie's Choice in the morning. My wife has a 4 day weekend so we'll be doing a few more fun things together also. Hope to take in a movie at Fox Tower or Living Room Theater and eat at the Vegan Red and Black Cafe again.

ADDENDUM TO JULY 1: BEAT BOOMER BUMBLING ALONG

Eventually, in the cool of Black Rock Coffee, after a slow 75 minute walk along the Columbia, my spirits did revive today, and I began the rewrite of Chapter Thirteen of Angie's Choice. What I mistook for ennui was diminished energy due to the cold. It's difficult to distinguish a physical from a psychological condition since both are the same sensation. A feeling is no more than a comfortable to uncomfortable physiological excitation as we have learned to label it by our brains' language functions.

More importantly, I came upon this pair of osprey by the Columbia. (I carry my camera on my belt now at all times.) Osprey mate for life and go South in the winter and often return to the same nest year after year. Years ago I wrote a haiku based on that information:

the osprey couple—
busily tidying up
their summer timeshare

PS: This pair's timeshare is not visible in the photo. Years ago when I wrote the haiku, the female was on her nest, and the male was nearby, picking out suitable fish for supper.

BEAT BOOMER BUMBLING ALONG

I'm experiencing an extended period of ennui that began with a cold and has continued unabated into my (almost) recovery from it. All of me (why not take all of me) screams to drive over to Portland and walk the sunny streets and sit in coffee shops to read a book, but my goal to get Angie's Choice into shape quickly so I can circulate it to potential publishers would nag my every step down the sunny Portland streets. Damn it, I do sometimes envy painters who can stand and walk around the room as they work on a canvass (if they want to). Sitting before this shiny screen on my ass for hours is what feels like a marathon run.

Back to the grind.... 

Put sandals on...ready to walk.

Late news flash: writer George Thomas decided today to forgo writing, ignore his guilt and go out and enjoy the day. Dadblast it!

SILENT BOOMER IS IGNORED BY A HERON

Today has been a creative bust. Couldn't get my wangbanger fired up. Sat at keyboard, wearing my backside flat, trying to connect with my characters. They weren't speaking to me or to one another. I decided to change my venue and drove into downtown Vancouver to Torque coffee shop and looked for my characters there. They'd been there, I was told, but left just a minute before I arrived. Did find a huge crowd lined up to eat free bowls at The Mighty Bowl, a traveling food truck which was celebrating one year of a solidly successful existence. Through the week, the Bowl changes locations, and Thursdays it parks at the Torque. The line ran 40 people long and still going after an hour and a half. I couldn't imagine how a truck that small carried enough food to serve all the patrons who showed up. Actually, I couldn't imagine much of anything. 

Cursing my muse, I left Torque to walk by the mighty Columbia River where I met an aloof Gray Heron upon a rock. "What's the haps," I asked, but he sat upon a gray rock that set off his feathers quite nicely and gave me the bird. He was writing haiku most likely. About grayness or ambiguity or Mark Twain on the Mississippi. As for me, I had to be satisfied with a purloined thought...the one about tomorrow being another day.

SILENT BOOMER AT THE RED AND BLACK CAFE

Scenes from Red and Black Cafe

My cold's a thing of the past. Boring and repetitious as this news may be—I'm far into Chapter Twelve of the rewrite of Angie's Choice. This morning, I returned to a far flung planet in the Portland Galaxy to do the rewriting. Wife and I discovered the cafe on Sunday when we went looking for a vegan restaurant. I can't afford to cross the river very many days to work in The Red and Black Cafe, but I'll sure try to do it on occasion because of its purposes and its ambiance. It's a co-operative place, and it's owner/workers are members of the International Workers of the World (IWW). It's a few blocks south of Three Friends Coffee House which I've mentioned in the past. 

Last week the news was happily mixed as follows:

Thank you for querying BookEnds and giving me a chance to read your work. After giving careful consideration to your query, I'm afraid that it's not quite the right fit for our Agency. As you know, the publishing industry is very subjective. I evaluate queries based on my own interests—and the interests of the agents I work for—and what our agency is currently looking to acquire. Just because I didn't fall in love with your query doesn't mean that another agent or publisher won't. Keep writing, revising, and querying. Good luck! Best, Beth Campbell Literary Assistant  BookEnds, LLC. 

and

Hi George,
We'll publish your piece 6/24.
Keep up the good work!
team WORK

WORK LITERARY MAGAZINE:
You can read my work-related poem on that site.



Does anyone think my strategy of sharing rejections on this blog will be detrimental to my plan to get someone other than myself to publish one of my four novels? I do invite agents to read this blog occasionally.

SILENT BOOMER, SONS EAT BREAKFAST IN LONG BEACH

My youngest son, Patrick (right), visits next week. He teaches physical education in Spokane and occasionally takes a continuing education workshop in Portland. A creative type too, he has put together improv troupes in Spokane and Bremerton for many years. He's currently forming another group in Spokane. They'll perform out of the Blue Door Theater most likely.

Photo's from last summer at excellent 42nd Street Cafe in Long Beach, Wa. Older son, Sean (left), works in a creative field too. Has his own business in graphic design and now lives and works thru his midlife crisis out of a fifth wheeler on the road in partnership with his wife, Sheila. 

Still coughing thru the nite (even with cough suppressant). Baldness, bad cold, cough and cold meds don't create much but fevered flashes within my synaptic self. I'll restart rewrite of Angie's Choice on Monday I believe.

Found new place to eat vegan and think revolution. The Red and the Black Cafe in Portland. Co-op ownership and IWW Union shop. Couldn't ask for a more beat place. The food is great.  Once or twice I'll have to drive over there to write, see if it fires my flickering imagination. Maybe Tuesday when I go to Portland for the Humanist men's monthly lunch.