BEAT ME DADDY 8 TIMES TO THE HEAD

Find photo here:

AAAAARG! I'm still on rewrite of Programming Frank Singletary. Who would of thought it would take so long when I began? I'm wondering if my unconscious is heeding my oft spoken wish about writing something beautiful? Of course, a graphically precise novel about dysfunctional relationships in which things very close to rape happen is not the sort of novel that most people would call "beautiful". Still, if it's writ true enough, it might have a "truth is beauty" of its own. The past week has been terrible at times. I've nearly regressed mentally to the heavy drinking past when I'd experience weeks of anguish, thinking everything I wrote was garbage. I had days, back then, when I could not bear to read my own work without twisting in the wind. Everything I wrote, I was convinced, was garbage. However, currently, as I slave away at one or two paragraphs for a couple of hours, and I see they are becoming more closely related to reality as I know it...I continually see improvement. Only problem, now, is will I be able to rewrite my entire cannon of novels before I die. I awoke in the middle of the night last night with the awful knowledge that the novel, Ghoul World, I've put so much hope into is badly flawed. It's set too far into the future, but if I bring it toward the now, then many other problems present themselves. I already know I must improve the beginning or Angie's Choice. Oh, woe, is me—the plight of the aging novelist.

BEAT TOO BEAT TO BEAT THE KEYS

Yeah. Me again.

Today is no better than my last entry. I'm stuck in rewrite of last chapter and don't know why. The heat? Anxiety? Old age? Ejaculatory dysfunction? Maybe the original ending, deep in my subconscious, is making a play to remain unchanged?

SILENT BOOMER PLANS TO END IT ALL

Brief note about current writing project. I'm still trying to complete a third rewrite of Programming Frank Singletary once known as The Porn Writer. I imagined I'd be done in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Had two chapters left but have hung fire on them for weeks. In fact, I'm altering how the novel ends. The original ending [see below], I thought of as existential and clever. Now, I'm hoping to make it more realistic and positive, I suppose. 

"Jesus Christ, what a mystery I am to myself! Penetrated with shame and emptiness, I lower my head and stare at the floor. So this is how I live, who I really am, I think, as I bend to pick up a small square of paper which lies on the floor, half under the mattress. Some writing on it. In an odd mood, I tell myself, Pretend this is a message left by the great big bang evolutionary force of the universe specially for me. I begin to read...."   THE END 

Wow! Writing is so mysterious. After reworking this ending paragraph, I'm now leaning toward leaving the ending as is. Of course, it's obviously a way to start a novel. Guess, I'll stop now, go for a walk and ponder the imponderables.

DAVE HILL, RAINY KNIGHT, JOYCE COLSON, HURRAH!

photo source

The poet is doing better than the novelist. He's got two readings booked. Isn't that a nice word, booked? Thanks to moderators Poets Dave Hill and Rainy Knight, on August 25th, I'll be a featured reader at Barnes & Noble's "Last Tuesday" poetry group. Lots popping at the store this July month too. On the third Wednesday, September 16th, by invitation of moderator, Poet Joyce Colson, l'll be the featured poet at Tiger Talk Open Mic at the Paper Tiger Coffee Roasters on Grand. One of the nice parts of that venue is that for one month, I believe, my poetry will be on display and for sale at Paper Tiger Coffee Roasters. Hope to see a few people there.

I don't know if anyone is noticing what's happening here in the Pacific Northwest. Day after day of 90 plus degree temps. Maybe I'm in Arizona and don't know it. A pal of mine down there reports temps of 107 and higher. Whew! Good thing I like to write in coffee shops. Most usually have "conditioned air". Yesterday, Mertie and I ventured to the coast for the day. Cooler there by 10 degrees, but still warm in late afternoon.

IN EVERY OLD SILENT BOOMER IS A CHILD

Art about imagination found here:

If I don't improve on the number of entries I put up here, I may lose potential readers of this writer's blog. I notice all the single visits or the odd two visits as readers check in to see if I've put up new material. Actually, nothing much is cooking except my hopes arise anew as I think of new ways to improve the four books I'm rewriting currently. For example, I'm considering changing Programming Frank Singletary to a third person narrator rather than the first person, Frank, who now narrates the fiction. As far as rejection letters or acceptances? Still no new events. I've decided to put Chapter One back into Ghoul World. The chapter goes a long way toward informing the reader of how the Rotting Plague works on human biology. Odd, that I read something into one rejection letter and IMAGINED that removing Chapter One would answer the complaint I IMAGINED was being made. Tonight, my wife and I were watching a science fiction movie, and I noticed the writer made a mistake I continually am learning to avoid...extra words and illogical reality. The piece of dialogue went, "I felt almost like I was drowning." If the character "almost" felt like he was drowning, then he couldn't have felt as if he was drowning. He either felt like he was drowning or he didn't. I told Mertie the line should read, "He felt like he was drowning." She suggested, even more forcibly, "He was drowning." The character was not describing an actual near-drowning event. The remark was a psychological remark. Another word I overuse is "just" as in "I just wanted to get your opinion." Wouldn't, "I wanted to get your opinion" work just as well. Granted...I do see occasions where "just" is justified, just between you and I [me].  

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.

HIP BEAT SALES EVENT!!!!!!!!!!

I'm the one on your right. I've got absolutely nothing to report on my goal to get someone other than myself to publish a novel of mine. No recent rejections or acceptances. I'm still busy on another rewrite of the novel I used to call, The Porn Writer. Now it's called, Programming Frank Singletary. It remains a story about sexual dysfunction between two damaged people told with pornographic detail. However, if you all live in the Vancouver, WA area, stop by this coming Saturday, 20th of June, at Gallery 360 between noon and 3 where several local authors, myself included, will be selling our books. I have two poetry books for sale. 

However, if you're not local, you can find both my poetry books on Amazon: Tenderfoot and Gray House By Cold Mountain. The second one is X-rated.