Sweet Dreams Series, Updates, and Inconvenient Realities

Hello, it's been awhile...in fact, quite a while. 

I've as usual been meaning to blog for a long time, but finding the time, making the time and all of that has gone by the way. Finally, after a long period of work, writing, editing and madness I have for once decided to make the fucking time.

There is much to anticipate this summer, and so many things have occurred that I have to figure out just how I'm going to do them all. In line with that come the happenings in our world, close to home and otherwise.

I made a joke recently with my old friend Jim on his birthday about not getting old, to which he replied something about his back. It's true, our bodies are turning into old cars: they're gonna break down, make sounds they're not supposed to, and leak things they shouldn't, but they do.

I have had some nagging issues, but they are really nothing to complain about. When I consider how much pain I really felt almost 25 years ago from an accident that should have killed me, this is nothing.

I'm so trying not to complain about things. I find that little things get me nettled, but that's always been the thing. I try to let that pass, and realize you can't change an awful lot of stuff outside you. You can change yourself if you want.

I again find I have to rethink things. The last thing I want to do is chase money, but you need just enough to get things done. Well, whether it rolls in while I'm alive or helps out the later generations, we'll see.

It's an ego thing...but I would like to see how the world reacts to some of what I'm doing.

So what is going on right now? Well, the good news is that a project that I started writing, and have dealt with on and off for 11 years is coming out this summer.

The Sweet Dreams Series is this crazy story of threads that came together and formed a Gordian knot, or perhaps some kind of non-tie able one. 

https://www.behance.net/gallery/11158157/Sweet-Dreams-Searching-for-Roy-Buchanan-(Ch1-proof)

What you think? Now true, this is not the finished product, just a rough cut. But does that get you interested? I hope so...

When I started writing that story in 2007, I did not know what I'd started, but I can imagine really well. The literary, manga and anime world did not break down the doors, and it won't until this gets out there. There's nothing wrong with considering the possibilities; in fact, I feel you have to, so you don't get blindsided.

So that is gonna be my fourth book, and the third on Brown Posey Press. People have asked how long that is going to run. Well, I wrote five, plus a compendium of sorts. But the arc is going to have to change a lot, and there's going to be an insane amount of work for the next one to make sense due to all the changes in the first.

I think we have a fine trilogy here. And when that's done, I'm going to let Aki and the gang grow up a little more.

Now, that leads me to my resumption of a radio role as...a talk show host.

Fuck me. The last thing I ever wanted to do is be that again. 

The toxic, filth-laden wasteland of talk radio, and I mean political as well as sports talk is, quite plainly, shit. Generations have been programmed to let their heads be filled with everything they don't really need. The shopping mall of the radio dial has become one gigantic gape shot that you don't want any part of.

There's little left that I can stomach. But...I was pleasantly surprised to get an opportunity to actually do something that really does appeal to me.

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/bookspeak

Sunbury Press Books, which is our parent company created the BookSpeak Network, and I host the Brown Posey Press show, primarily for fiction.

Pretty cool; while generally I interview fellow authors on the imprint, I can go off the reservation. I've only done four shows so far, and I'm reading a lot more and prepping to do a full show without commercials.

Now we use phone hookups, so it's kind of a strange, almost analog sound. A friend listened to one of the shows and said it was like someone discovering a forgotten radio, and turning it back on. She found it a very comforting thing. How neat.

So I've interviewed some fine people and authors, and there will be more. I'm really enjoying this. This is the kind of show I can do. Authors talking about their books, about writing, what they read, how they've experienced things...it's actually really thought provoking.

I also have found a paying job...imagine that!

I'm working as a mentor for a gentleman who is in broadcasting school. He is a little older than me, and originally from Kenya. His goal is to return to his homeland and work as a talk show host. The power of radio over there is still king. 

He's got most of the tools, but he just needs some technical help, and practice. I've never done this before; I feel I can really help him. This is a nice give-back to an industry that needs people, still.

Now, we gotta hit the realities...our bodies are growing old, but our minds need not. These things I do keep my brain stretched, so I can write again and more, and further along.

I got a great opportunity last weekend to see an old friend. Kelly is a person I met 30 years ago in Northern NH. I was just explaining this experience to a friend, so I'll leave it this way: we were friends, lovers, and a lot of things for four years when it all blew up.

Fault is not one-sided, but we've long since forgiven one another for our doings. She did what I did, jobbed about the radio world, worked like hell, and has found a lot more.

We hadn't seen each other in 26 years, and I'm amazed and impressed by her. We both had things to work through, and we each had to do them. I'm still working on mine, but that's a lifelong deal.

That's the good one.

The passing of Anthony Bourdain is something I have to touch on. There was a recent suicide of a lady that shocked a lot of people, a designer that I am sorry to say I know little about.

I didn't know much about Bourdain; I'd only seen his TV show once, and there's a lot of love/hate flying about the man. He was loud, outspoken, and ruffled feathers. My kinda guy. 

He did a lot of good, though; he took us places, and tried food everywhere. Travel, he counseled us, travel; I need to follow that example.

His suicide shocked everyone. What could have happened? No one can say, but there's been a real re-ignition of the talk about suicide.

As someone who planned his own 30+ years ago, I can tell you a few things, but each person's reasons are different.

I wrote about this in Parasite Girls, my first book; and it looms in A Moment in the Sun, my second. Didn't plan that, but these things come about.

In the first, a character notes that a person is in the dark, so far, that they no longer realize what they are completely doing. The damage, the hurt, the agony, and whatever else influences otherwise rational people to do the irrational.

They may even think they're doing you a favor, by offing themselves. They may think life is no longer worth living; or that they cannot contribute, fit in, or do anything useful any longer, if ever.

The skin they live in must be something they cannot tolerate any longer. Everyone has a reason; the cases are different.

There are no true warning signs, but some say when a person no longer takes joy in the things they should, gives away valued possessions, withdraws, etc., those may be signs.

Hard to say. I never told anyone what was going on inside me, and most had no idea. But I'd also isolated myself enough, that the rare occasion anyone saw something strange, they either didn't get it, or passed it off as something other.

I can't really tell you anything specifics, because each of us are so different. Just this...if someone really reaches out to you, shut up, and listen. And listen critically. It's not about you. It's about them. Let it be them for just a little bit.

That said, I have to note the passing of a dear friend. Dick Huntington left us a couple weeks back. Dick was a lot of things, I can't even begin to document them. 

An author, a poet, a storyteller, a bard (he liked to call himsef), a teacher, so many things. He was in my old band Ahltyrra briefly, and he contributed in a lot of ways to my writing.

He edited and helped me greatly with my skills, way back when Sweet Dreams first went out to the world. He fell in love with the characters, and loved what I was doing with the time travel, the music, the people. Dick also tightened up my horrible writing style, and my awful changes of tense.

Dick served in Vietnam, but never talked about it. Rather, he talked about his time in California, the music scene, his years of living in different places, booking for the Baltimore Blues Society, meeting such incredible musicians. Great moments of his life.

As his health declined, Dick didn't quit. He helped right up to the end, and I feel that he should be seen for all the good he did, and yeah, he did a lot. I'm not going to toss off the difficult side of him, and that yes, he did piss some folks off.

But I ain't perfect, either, and don't I know it.

I'm sorry Dick did not live in his body to see the book make its way out, but wherever he is, I'm sure he'll see it, and have a lot to say about it!

RIP, brother, love you as you did me.

Well...time to move on here. Thanks for reading.

How About a Preview...?

Hey all...well, I wish you and yours and Merry Xmas, a Joyous Yule, Blessed Kwanzaa, or whatever you like. 

I may have noted recently my displeasure or unhappiness at having to "get through" these holidays, and it's a battle. But I apologize if I freaked any of you out about that. I have a place to be today, and yesterday...I began writing a new, mad piece.

I've been working on this in my mind and through too many pages of sketches and storylines for two years. I hope it doesn't take that long to finish it.

I can't tell you too much about this, because I don't know how it's going to come out. But the story began from hours and miles of driving in total darkness, and listening to Joe Jackson's amazing Fast Forward CD.

So...here are the bashed out, first two pages of Part I, "Christmas in New York."

Times Square; this place was the center of New York City, mostly in the minds of those who’d never lived or been there. The place where dreams focused, for people who believed that old song, the one about making it there, and then propelling oneself further into the world.

      Christmas Eve, around the gigantic tree, bedecked with hundreds of ornaments, a thousand lights or more were revelers, celebrants of the holiday season, with lip service to the child supposedly born on this night, but more to the gayer, less serious aspects.

      Lights flashed across the sky, from the skyscrapers, the billboards and the windows of shops still open. Smaller and less noticed ones flickered as well, from the cameras of tourists taking selfies to broadcast to family and friends back home where they were. Others jammed the sidewalks and streets, partying from club to bar and then the next, and still more hitting those places with last-minute and impulse buys to be had.

      There too, the music: holiday sounds, from the traditional to contemporary, the voices of those at Mass and other more staid events, remembering what they were taught about the so-called Holy Night. The overproduced, glitzy versions of schmaltzy songs about winter wonderlands, a reindeer with an improbable nose, and of course Saint Nicholas; no one here seemed to remember the roots of these things, the Pagan Gods and Goddesses that bore these children.

      A word to the wise to those less experienced was: when in New York, one dressed and acted as though they lived there. The aim was not fall prey to the pickpockets, scammers and grifters that plied the city streets, in search of an easy mark.

      Amid the well-dressed and heeled, those of the middle and working classes walked, rushed and jostled for position in these streets, as they did all around the world. The chill of December was felt more by these folk, but they accepted cold and this time of year as a part of life. Their breath fogged like smoke or vapor; it rose and dissipated with millions more on this grand night.

      And within all these, were the ones that no one noticed, or would admit, even to themselves existed.

      The ragged creature shuffled along the sidewalk, her feet taking in the freezing walk through her battered sneakers. They didn’t even feel as though they were on her feet, these numb to near frostbite. That mattered nothing to her; at least they no longer hurt.

      She was surprised she felt anything at all. Cold had set in weeks before, and never left her. The thin clothing inside of the wool coat, still not one for this weather, did nothing to protect her from the elements. Her gloves, the fingers torn or cut away by a previous owner weren’t much help, but she flexed her hands and fingers as much as possible to keep some feeling. It gave her something to do with her hands, and to focus on.

      Her jeans had seen better years, and the wool cap could not keep the long, matted rat’s nest of black hair from being seen. Down over her shoulders it bounced, and looked more like dreadlocks.

      If anyone chose to look at this thin, gaunt urchin, one might see a face. Thin and long, the jawline was not completely square, but decently formed. Skin, pale from exposure; a Caucasian but not through and through, because it would have taken a very close look to see there might be a little more in this girl’s lineage.

      The eyes were a liquid blue, the black lashes long, even under the body’s duress. The nose, thin, not too large or too small, and the lips too seemed correct for a female that one might draw a picture of. She was not beautiful by the standards of the day, but she was not ugly, either, apart from her current disposition.

      The wind blew down these streets as the girl walked through, unable to find any protection from the buildings, the numerous vehicles or the people who stormed along; they paid no heed to this child, and she did not stop or bother them.

      There was no point. As the wind again tore through her, she drew her thin jacket, most of the buttons long gone about her, and kept on. The clouds had thickened throughout the day, she’d noticed, and there was almost no sun from this morning. A winter storm was coming; the first flakes had already begun to fall, glinting with the colors of the Christmas and city lights, and floated down like confetti. They already had begun to collect on the parked cars, SUVs, trucks and taxicabs that lined the block; it would be a bad night.

      Again, it didn’t matter. She kept walking, but her head came up slightly. Leaned against a brick wall, alongside one of the high end stores, she saw a man. Barely able to stand, in a rough looking jacket and clothes nearly as pathetic as her own, he held out a used McDonald’s cup, asking for spare change. There were few takers.

      She looked at him as she came abreast of him: he was black, probably in his twenties, but the live he led made him look forty. Sharp features, in the cheekbones, the prominent nose, damaged teeth behind his lips; his brown eyes stared at this strange one that walked past him.

      No words were exchanged, but the two nodded. They understood one another.

Well, what do you think? It is a dark, odd beginning, no? The book is tentatively entitled, Times Best Remembered, and I'll explain that in further detail when we finally get there.

I did this the other day:

I made a road trip from Harrisburg to Valley Forge, with a short stopover in Newtown Square, right near a former workplace. My goals were to hit every rest stop on the PA Turnpike, where I left "gifts" of my books.

Yes, it is a cost, but a write off. Here now, my books for free, in hand to those I hope will read them, like them, and expand the base.

The deck is stacked against us indie authors, it's rigged. Big bookstores won't stock you, indie bookstores won't stock you. They stock what they know they can sell.

How it is...we must make ourselves visible, and obnoxious. I aim to.

Feh!

So anyway, let me know if you like that. It's a good story; might be the best thing I've done.

The best work is the one you have not yet written.

Peace, Out.

A New Book, the Future, and Time to Reflect...

Well, it is the first time in a long while that I've had to blog and write meandering lines about everything that's going on in the world right now. I have quite a store of thoughts, ideas, decisions and other bullshit that I have to blast out of me, and I'm not going to do it unless I do it now.

I'm sitting in the Office, a place I spend very little time in anymore. As you have gathered from watching my Facebook and other posts, I'm on the road a lot and busy. Full-time employment, and the needs of chasing money are not something I enjoy. At least not the way I'm doing it right now.

I try not to think too much about it, because our obsession with that kind of thing leads a lot of us to split hairs. We'll say we don't believe in/need lots of money, but then we plot out how much we actually think we need, and scheme to get it. Like that's going to do you any good.

A lot of people haven't seen me lately, and that is because of what I do. Time is not on my side, and will not be for the foreseeable future. I need the job I have in order get insurance, and to pay for the medicine that gets pumped into me at various times in a hospital. I tend to wonder if it's really worth it. Add to it my specialist is retiring next year, and I wonder who I'll get referred to.

That is really not a worry right now. I feel like I am in a big fucking hurry right now. I have about 25 years left on this earth, perhaps more if I am lucky. Well, longevity in my family is pretty good, so perhaps I'll be granted a little extra time. 

The deal is: I have too much to do, and to accomplish, not because of my ego, but because I want to do it. It also is a very good defense against a world that I see turning on itself yet again, and looking to kill itself.

I do not honestly think the world is coming to an end, nor do I think there will be any sort of end of days scenario that so many people seem to want to have.  We are such a fatalistic bunch, aren't we?

Some of the things I say and think (especially the latter) would probably offend you, because it would seem so weird. I am just of the mind that with what time I have left, I have to make it count.

So what's this mean? I have yet to disengage from everything I need to in this world, but I'm working towards it. My goals are damned well clear, I have to figure out how to take all the proper steps.

This is where we are right now: I am this close to having "A Moment in the Sun," my second book, ready to come out on Sunbury Press. I am feeling very positive about this one. It is better than "Parasite Girls," in terms of how it's written, and it does have a pretty decent flow to it. The characters are interesting, intriguing, and I want to think all have a fair amount of humanity in them. In that, they are not perfect, even though a couple of them think they are.

A lot of you have asked what is it about? That would be telling, but let's say I examined an aspect of society that (while it's set in Japan) is unique to one place, it can be anywhere, and it is everywhere. That issue leads into others, and without knowing it, I got these characters to face themselves.

Those in the danger areas had to do that anyway, but those outside looking in are forced to examine themselves. Some have to let the boundaries of class and rank, as it were, go. They had to change, or at least accept differences in others that were always there, but they just pretended not to see.

That is a problem we have now. In the big picture, we are people who cling to what we have, our past, and all the issues that hold us back. I got sick years ago of people going on about all the stuff that held them back (they thought) and how they were going to do things, but always found an excuse not to.

Excuse, not reason.

I'm not saying I get everything done on time, and I do not always keep my word the way I should, but I make the effort. Too many people are making excuses, and they're not innocent ones.

We are also lashing out against one another, and as always over two subjects, religion and politics.

I'm pretty much done with one, and could fucking care less about the other. We have to decide for ourselves what we want, and fighting about it, and losing friendships does not make it right, nor does it do any good.

I've lost at least one person who I thought was a friend. He flamed me on Facebook for not following his POV about a certain presidential candidate, and insulted me. He went completely out of his mind over it. 

His view is for himself, and against all others. I was really surprised, because this fellow is really an intelligent guy. I have no idea what happened to him; I think he melted his brain on Facebook.

I really want to give that up, and just do a website of my own. Unfortunately, it is a thing to bear, because it is the one site that is reasonable in its ease of use. Google + I use and I like, but damn it is slow. It takes an awful lot to get the thing to work; I don't really care for its setup, but I think it has potential to be fixed and improved.

Social media is still a weird animal to me. Thank whatever remains that has any form of goodness to it, that I do not have a fucking smartphone. I'm being encouraged at work to get one, but I don't want one. I am not one of those people. 

I dug all the Star Trek stuff, esp. the technology of TNG, and we're using it now, the tablets and stuff. I have no use for it, though. I spend too damn much time in front of this laptop and computer screens as it is.

My writing is leading into a direction where in at least one story perhaps we can disconnect a little, and see what happens with that. Long time down the road, though.

Anyway..."A Moment..." is the big step up. It is a cross between young adult and mainstream fiction; anyone can read this and get it. You will I think find yourself in this story. 

Now, where to get it? Sunbury has a website, and they primarily deal in independent bookstores. Unlikely you'l find this in Barnes & Noble, but I'm gonna try for it. So if not via the web (or one of the usual sites), go make friends with the manger of your local shop and tell 'em about me, haha.

My goal is simple: make this one work. Hopefully it works well enough that Sunbury likes what I offer. I am fortunate to have found a fantastic editor there; Janice and I recently met, and I am taken.

She understands my writing. How about that?

She got where I was going with the story; Janice also got some of the other project ideas, and got me to submit the potential next one as well.

This I hope is a platform, to lay the groundwork for the even better stuff I have planned. I have been on this kick for nearly eight years, and I'm not stopping.

I am writing what I want to see, not what the media, your politicians, your churches, your whatevers tell you you're supposed to see. Get that? Not saying I'm right, and I don't demand you buy in. It's not that different.

I'm trying to blow the fucking establishment out of my brain once and for all, and I hope one day to get there and yet still have enough of said brain working that I know where I am by the end of it. 

To paraphrase a wise man, "I know where I'm going, I feel it deeply."

Peace, Out.

Motivation, Madness, the Number 20 and "Drifters"

Greetings once more, blogworld...this is the first time in a while that I have time to write something other than what I am working on, and that is partly due to the inability to get in gear at a time when I must absolutely do it.

Where have I been? Back on the road again for GeoTraffic.com -- after the layoff, I was called back in. Restructuring has gone on, and I am back in action for them. Needless to say, glad to have it, and I think we might just make a significant step in the near future. Gotta be optimistic.

Busy doing my other jobs...Radio PA part of this week, which means getting out of bed at about 1:30 in the morning. Not much different than Geo, because the morning shift for me means getting up at 3:30. And the travel, and all the other stuff.

Writing...okay, recently I hammered out after several false starts a manuscript called, "Night Dawn."

https://www.behance.net/gallery/19966397/Night-Dawn-Chapter-5-Excerpt

It is potentially a young adult novel about one person's struggle through a critical period of teenage life, rife with numerous issues...most of which I experienced myself. Long way to go before that's ready. I had to get it out of me.

20.

I am not completely sure what counts as full and finished...but I may have 20 manuscripts or books written. 

20.

I can't remember if that number includes the horrific sci-fi novel I wrote in the 90's. But...since 2007, that's what I have been doing.

20.

So...what of "Parasite Girls?"

Forgive me, but I am going to say something that needs to be said. If I had a nickel for every single person who told me they were going to buy or download my book...I'd have a very big bag of nickels.

To those who have, THANK YOU. I am appreciative and respectful that you laid your money down for me. I hope the book is worth it to you, and that you at least enjoyed it. I hope you also let others know it was good.

The past year has been a year of learning what NOT to do. I have learned quite a bit about promotion on the fly, and I am going to have to use a very different set of tactics when I get the next one out there.

And yes, the next one, "Drifters: Tales of the Southern Cross" has potential for more than one book, but that's too far down the road. 

https://www.behance.net/gallery/14840009/Drifters-Chapter-9-The-Lonely-Ocean

There is a rough cut of it. I will be editing this fall, Mitch Bentley will be working up his magic for a cover, and I aim to publish again by Amazon.com -- I am not impressed with Smashwords and its lack of action, so I may not go with them for the ebook thing.

This is more of what I write, the young adult world, a bit of fantasy, fiction, non-fiction, travel, and yes, madness. I'm good at the latter.

I am also endeavoring to get another work, "A Moment in the Sun" a read from publishers or agents. This one is young adult/adult fiction...crosses over. Friends have told me this one has something more to it. 

I have to go all out for this...this is what I enjoy doing and what I want to do. The aim has been and still is, to get some of my work out there, get that built up, and then hope by the right time, someone will notice that, "Hey, this guy has something good."

I think I do, anyway.

One thing I've noticed--you still need a big name behind you, you still need a real deal publisher or you will not get much notice. I don't care what anyone says...we all can't get a "Colbert Bump," as a colleague suggested I go for, or have some self-serving twit on TV or wherever touching themselves over you. Doesn't work.

A band can make their own records and tour...but you still have to have support behind the scenes.

I am if anything, a stubborn SOB. I don't quit, even when my better judgment says I should.

So yeah...it's a battle. But one that I approach with the idea that at the end of the day, I'm still alive. So I haven't lost.

The one thing I wish I could get is about a month or two where I didn't have to chase money and could seriously map out what I need to do, beyond the writing. So far, I think a lot about it; not much more. 

It will get done when the time is right. Anyway, I need to hit the pool, and get ready for round two of my workday.

Round 3 is at 3:30 am, or as my colleague Tim Lambert says, "Oh-Dark-30."

Check out what I got on Behance...ask me questions, I'll have answers.

Peace, Out.