A completely new style

I have recently read an Ellen Hopkins book that has drastically influenced me in ways that I cannot even begin to describe.  I have thought for a long time about doing something new with my YA writing, trying to find my voice.  Ellen Hopkins has helped me tremendously.  I used to love writing poetry, and I was pretty good at it though my stuff was pretty dark.  When I read her book Crank, I thought that I might try something similar.  What is in this blog is the first page of a novel that I am revising called Fall of Knight.  I wrote the story one way and was not happy with it.  Now I am experimenting. Please read page one below and tell me what you think.  This is very important to me.

Electro Convulsive Therapy

Is much more

                                                                                             humane

                                                         say the men in their 

                                                                                             white

                                                   coats with their purring

                                                                                              voices

                                                         but I still hear mad

                                                                                              whispering

                                                                         like bugs

                                                                                               skittering

                                                                   beyond walls

                                                                                                fuzzy

                                                                         with age.

                                                         He cannot hear me 

                                                                                               over

                                                                                 the         buzzing

                                                                                               current

                                                                                               disjointed

                                                                              but i

                                                                                               won't stop

                                                                        being there

                                                                                               for him

                                                                  when he listens

                                                                                               again.

Note: This novel is about a mentally ill teenager who faces constant bullying.  It is not a happy story.

Checking In

I wrote a crossbyte the other day.  It was, "If you know you need help and you don't ask for it, you are not being strong, you are being stupid."  I don't know where I would be today had I not asked for help from a counselor at Valley Spring's Youth Ranch.  Bless Mary Campbell's heart. I would likely be dead or institutionalized or be one of those whose lives have been completely destroyed by full-blown bipolar disorder.  I caught it before it was too late.  I know people who suffer from mental illness and anxiety disorders, but will not get the help they need. I don't know if our country will ever get past that, you're not ill, you just need to buck up mentality when it comes to mental illness.  Mental illness is a biological, chemical disorder that can be treated as an illness.  It's sad that some people are too afraid or too ashamed to seek the help they need.  I think what also happens is that mentally ill people lose track of what is actually normal, and they don't realize that what they are feeling is not in any way, shape or form, normal.

I can report on a few things that have changed since the last time I have done one of these.  I have lost quite a bit of weight, 25 pounds to be exact.  I have firmed up and actually gotten a few muscles though I am still far from my overall goal of weight loss.  I still have a weakness for sweets.  Last time I had my blood drawn my sugar was borderline, so I really need to watch what I eat.  I want to lost another 20 pounds if I can.  I will be happy if I can do that.

I am proud to say that the St. Louis Cardinals are in the World Series again, this time against the Red Sox.  This series could go either way easily.  The Cardinals will have Craig Allen back.  I think they will win in six games.  I do NOT believe there will be any chance of the Red Sox sweeping the Cardinals again.  I may eat those words but I just don't think it's possible.  We are better than we were in 06 and the Red Sox are not as good.  They're still a great team and they may thrash us.  We will just have to see.  In football, Rams quarterback, Sam Bradford is out for the season with a torn ACL.  This season will not be pretty for the Ram unless another Kurt Warner can arise from the ashes of obscurity.

I have done a lot of writing since the last time I blogged.  I started working with elance.com, and I have actually written several pieces: a speech, about seven short stories, and a novella.  I am making some extra money with it.  I completed a screenplay and am working on another.  I don't know what I'm going to do with the first one.  I would like to put it on inktip, but right now, money is a little tight.  I financed a new apple computer, so I am saving all I make to pay it off.

Lately, I have felt restless, depresses, and anxious.  I feel as if I have so much that I have to do that I never have time to do what I want to do.  Lots of thing have gotten me depressed.  One of our cats had to be put down today.  We have had her for years.  That was sad, but there are worse things going on that I won't go into.  I'll just hang in there.  School is getting to me too.  It always does this time of year.  Well, I am going to bring this to a close, and after I can find a really pretty picture of fall foliage, I will post it.

This is one of the views from the Shepherd Mountain hiking trail. It's about three miles, and the first mile and a half at least is up the side of a mountain.  A small mountain, but a mountain, nonetheless. My wife and I hiked it last weekend.  It was in July not March.  However, the temperature was in the 70's.  It was a beautiful but tiring walk, one we wouldn't have been able to complete just a few short weeks ago.  We have been going to a gym, and the experience has made us feel so much better.  I have lost roughly 18 pounds or so.  I weigh less now than I have for years.  Even bigger than the weight loss is the fact that I am toning.  My pulse has gone done.  It used to go in the 70's to 80's, but now, it usually stays in the 60's until I really exercise.  I am combining cardiac training with weight machines -- not the free weight kind. I can't do that stuff, nor do I want to.

It was a good day today.  Thirty one years ago, my wife and I got married.  Never mind that we took a wrong turn on the first night of our honeymoon and wound up at the gates of a mental hospital.  I wouldn't say it was a harbinger, but ...  We went to one of our favorite places for lunch, Mario's in Bonne Terre.  They have great Italian food.  Better than Pasta House I think, and it's reasonably priced too.

I got my first freelance writing job through elance today, and it is finished, accepted, and I reckon I will get paid tomorrow or the next day.  I know it doesn't always go that way, but it a fun start anyway.

The Cardinals lost their sixth game in a row tonight, and they are now two and a half games out of first place.  To make matters worse, Yadier Molina is on the DL for at least 15 days with a strained knee.  I am not a fair weather fan, but to be honest, I didn't think the Cardinals were even a playoff team at the beginning of the year.  Their inconsistency is frustrating.

I'm working on my screenplay.  Got a brilliant idea today.  I'm at 100 pages, so I am going to have to condense it.  I just need to get the rough draft finished.

That's all from me.

Lazy, hazy summer day

Today, I am being as lazy as my fat cat, Tootie.  He's incredibly lovable, but he certainly doesn't move very fast.  Later this evening I'll go to the gym and work out, but right now, I'm just frittering the hours away in an offhand way.  (Obscure Pink Floyd quote.)

Since I joined Elevate Fitness here in my home town, I have actually lost about 12 pounds, and I am starting to tone up.  I am not nearly as horrified when I see myself sideways in the mirror although I am a long way from physically fit and svelte.  I am getting closer.  My goal is to lose 30 pounds total or maybe even more if I can.  When I go back to school, I would like to be in the 220's.  I haven't seen that in years.  That means I need to lose about 15 more pounds in the next month.  Probably won't happen, but I might surprise myself. I feel so much better, and my aches and pains don't ache and pain so much.  Exercise is the closest thing humans have to a fountain of youth.  Tootie needs to work out at the gym too.

The Cardinals are still in first place with the best record in baseball though they are only one game ahead of the Pirates.  It will be interesting to see if they make any trades before the deadline.  I'm not sure if their starting staff is going to hold up.  However, Carpenter appears to be on the road back.  Wow, how great would that be!

I am working on some writing projects.  Two, to be exact.  A screenplay and a novel revision.  I'm thinking about branching out and doing some general freelancing, but I'm not sure about it.  There's this website called elance.com that looks promising.  I'll keep you apprised. (appraised?)

It is supposed to get up to 96 degrees with a heat index of 104 today.  Then, we have a cool down.  We got a little shower in Arcadia yesterday after I mowed my grass and washed my car.  Oh, well.

I don't have anything to rant about although one thing is a little annoying to me.  There's this new thing on the Internet called askfm.com or something like that.  My Twitter feed is getting clogged with some of that stuff, and it's a little annoying.  Why does there have to be a web site or an app to ask people questions.  Why don't people just ask?

The art of conversation is dying.  I've even caught myself saying ... aloud ... lol and omg.  Gag me!

Fun Facts about the Common Joe

George Harrison is my favorite

I love all kinds of music.  Today, for instance, I have listened to or will listen to The Veronicas, Rihanna, Regina Spektor, Boston, the Beatles, Heart, Orianthi, Laura Marling, and Duane Allman.  One concert I would have loved to attend is/was Pink Floyd, but that likely will never happen.

For the last six months I have been working out at two separate gyms.  I am not losing weight really but I am turning my fat into muscle and I am getting rid of my flab.  I work out six days a week when I can.

I teach school, on the secondary and post-secondary level, and I have three years before I can retire from the high school.  If the government keeps their hands off things, that is.  I do intend to teach part time at a college, primarily to pay for health insurance.  When we retire, my wife and I might move to Cape Girardeau, or Springfield, MO.  I like both areas; I especially like Branson.

I write and have published fiction, nonfiction, and drama.  I want to sell a screenplay.  I still have yet to make my first million from my writing, but at least I have made some toward that goal.

I don't play sports as such because I am too old and hopelessly awkward.  I am, however, a rabid Cardinals and yes, Rams, fan.  I won't tell you how long I've been a Cardinal fan but it's likely longer than you have lived. I don't care for hockey; my apologies to all of you rabid Blues fans.  I think I just don't understand everything about it.

I like to read.  I would much rather read Young Adult fiction than adult fiction or the classics, even though I am an English major.  It seems like YA writers are not afraid to experiment.  Perhaps, that is because the YA books are not expected to make millions upon billions of dollars.  I do also like Dean Koontz, especially his Odd Thomas series.

I have this thing that I do online which started a few years ago as words of wisdom for my seniors who were getting ready to graduate from college.  Near the end of the school year, I would post one completely original, made up by myself quote of wisdom each day, and I would call them crossbytes.  I have since expanded my crossbyte venue to include Facebook and Twitter.  Feel free to use them for free, but do tell them where they came from.

I started using the Internet to make connections for my writing endeavors.  I have done some of that, but I am still looking for a literary agent. I need someone who will represent my fiction and my scripts, someone who will manage my career and nurse me along.  I would not be one of those greedy jerks who drop their agent as soon as they make it big.  I believe I would stick with the people that helped me get to where I was.  I do believe in fidelity.

B.S.U. (Boring status update)

Blogs are not supposed to be boring, but this one probably will be. I like to check in every once in a while, but that doesn't mean I have anything cool to say. Many things are going well, some not.  Typical life thing. A friend of mine, a fellow educator, and a wonderful human being died this morning. Kelly Burlison died this morning from heart problems, an issue that has dogged him for many years. Kelly is close to my age, maybe a couple years older. He's left a joke that can't be filled.

I haven't had any writing successes yet this summer, but I have been writing and sending out feelers. I am doing a screenplay about 30 percent finished, and I am on a final (for now) revision of a YA novel. The two are related, and I have thoroughly enjoyed the work. All else is on hold until I finish these, well, almost. I am doing some poetry. Long story there, but I want to do even more.

I am teaching two classes at the Fredericktown outreach center: they meet from 4 to 9:20 on Monday and Wednesday. Both are going well.

That is an abbreviated update. Enjoy.

Aren't You Glad It's Summer.

Remember a few months ago -- that white stuff on the ground.  It's gone.  Everything is green and growing.  The temperatures are warm, and the St. Louis Cardinals have the best record in baseball.  BooYAH!  I'm watching them -- sort of -- tonight against the Brewers.  Another one of their young pitchers has come on in relief and thrown bullets.  Cardinals tied the game by stringing a bunch of hits together after two outs.  At this point, Martinez has 22 pitches and 14 have been 96 mph or above.  I don't know exactly what that is for kmh but it's fast believe me.

I am going to put down a few goals for the summer.  I want to finish revising my YA novel and complete the screenplay I want to base on it.  It won't be exactly the same, but it will be similar.  I don't know if this is a good approach or not, but one of the things I have discovered is I make my fiction better when I also try to write it in script form.  It keeps my prose from being bloated.  I am bloated; I don't want my prose to be.

That's another goal for the summer; to get in shape.  I have been working out regularly, but I'm not controlling my eating well enough.  I am getting toner, but I'm not getting slimmer.  I have not officially lost any weight but I have gained some muscle.  I can tell because some the loose skin on my arms and legs has tightened up.  I try to do some form of cardiac, at least a half hour of treadmill, track, or glider and a half hour of weight training each time I go to the gym.  It pays off.

Now, for the Cardinals game, Rosenthal is in.  He just threw one at 98 mph.  We have a guy in the AAA farm club who would be starting for almost every other major league team at the moment, but there's no room for him in St. Louis.  At least there wasn't.  Today, Jaimie Garcia joined Chris Carpenter and Jake Westbrook on the disabled list.

I'm signed up to teach two classes this summer.  One has already made.  The other is sketchy.  It's at four I think and needs to have eight.  Of course there are always students who sign up at the last minute so both classes might make.  The one that has already made meets Monday from 4 to 9:20.  The other one, if it makes, will be the same time on Wednesday.

I don't have any other plans for the summer, though I would like to catch up on some reading.  That's all for tonight.

Stress is one short step from insanity

Stress.  Yuck.  You can tell that I am stressed when the only way I have been able to unwind from the day is by teaching a night class tonight.  Either I'm stressed, or I'm a geek.  Take your pick.  Maybe I am a stressed geek.  That's me. 

No, North County is doing its play, and I'm working on some of the technical stuff. Our sound system went out right before practice tonight -- before I had to leave to come here to teach.  I'm hoping it is just a wire.  I'm more than hoping; I'm praying because I am no electrician, and if there is something wrong with the sound system we will have to do without sound effects.

I have just two night classes (including tonight) left before the semester is over, and just about one and a half weeks before my seniors at North County graduate.  I am behind as usual.  I'm also about to go nuts because I haven't written anything in ages.  I'm trying to market some material I already have.  So far, no luck.

Meanwhile, my yard is an absolute jungle because I have not been able to finish cutting it, and I don't know if I will have time this weekend.  After Sunday, some of the stress will be gone.  The play will be over.  This is what I can look forward to.  Then, a few weeks after that, my summer class starts.

Well, I have vented a little bit, so I am now going to sign off and get my students onto their debate.  We are doing an informal debate on stem cell research.  They found an article that told about a little girl who had a new windpipe grown from her own stem cells extracted from her hip.  That's amazing.

I'll write again soon.  Thanks for all of you who keep reading.

So you may be wondering what's going on with my life lately.

But probably not.

I don't care, however. I will let you in on a couple of things, though not exciting to anyone else, are exciting to me.

I graded a bunch of papers today.  No, that's not exciting, but the fact that I have fewer left to do is kind of exciting.  See how little it takes to please me.

I have wanted to reflect on the tragedies that have befallen my country lately, but I don't dare because as soon as I do, liberals, conservatives, moderates, proteststants, catholics, jews and gentiles begin to twist any of my comments into a forum for political invective.  Do you know how much this saddens me?  So, I am not going to say anything else about politics.

My life is not very exciting most of the time, and I do see some need for changes to be made, though I am not quite sure what those changes might be.  I'm almost 55, so you think I would just settle down and be content with what I have.  I am content with what I have, but a great prophet (Bob Dylan) once said, that he not busy being born is busy dying.  To me, that means if you are not continually striving to overcome challenges and meet new adventures head on, then you are becoming stagnant.

I wish -- well, I'm not going down that road.  You know the old saying, "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."  Would you believe me if I told you that once I made that statement in one of my classes, and my students had no idea what it meant.  I guess they struggle with anything other than text speak. lol.  I am reminded of the novel 1984 in which the government had as one of its primary goals to gut all the passion and nuances out of language so that the people would be unable to even think of anything remotely rebellious, much less express it.  Newspeak.  Text speak is the new Newspeak.  Actually, that is a bit too cynical.  Some people can get quite clever with tweets and texts.

There was also Doublespeak in 1984.  Politicians could learn from that. An example from the novel is one of the party's slogans.  War is Peace.  Freedom is slavery.  Sorry, politics again.

We have more testing this week in school.  Block scheduling.  Two or three days where I won't get my plan period.  General chaos and confusion.  All in a day's work.

Well, I don't have much else to say.

So Does anyone even Care?

I haven't written in my blog in forever.  I lost interest.  One of the problems with people who have my condition is that they start one project after another with overwhelming enthusiasm and then they run out of creative energy, drive, motivation, or they just find out that what they thought was a brilliant idea was no more than a flash of brilliance -- a large snowflake sizzled in a bonfire.  I don't know how many times I have started something and not finished it.  People do not know what a chore it is.  I can't help it really.  Another characterization of my condition is delusions of grandeur.  You start off thinking you can conquer the world, and then you discover a. the world is too big or b. you are too small.  What is really bad is this sets into motion a cycle of defeat that damages a person even more.   Great idea, fierce opening salvo to complete idea, realization you don't have the knowledge, energy, creativity or worst of all focus to complete said idea, huge, massive depression at failure and the desire to live under a rock until the next great idea comes along.  Vicious, vicious cycle.  No one who does not have a mental illness can even begin to realize what it means and how it affects people.  No one.  You have flashes of promise and joy at what may possibily happen and then huge periods of depression until the next wild scheme comes to mind. The sad thing is that I get treatment for mine.  People who do not get treatment for bipolar disorder have inordinately high percentages of suicide.  It's tough to explain to someone why one minute you feel like you can conquer the world and all its moons and the next minute you feel like driving your car off the cliff.  The odd thing is that there are often no reason why there's the change.  Nothing happens except some damned hormone kicks in or fails to kick in and it sabotages any attempts you make to achieve normalcy.  End of rant.

 

 

Been a while

I have neglected my blog for a long time now.  Shame on me. For some unknown reason, ads started showing up in my blog postings -- not on the side or in the margins -- but as a post that supposedly I wrote.  I thought I had been hacked so I changed the email, but that did not seem to alleviate the problem, so I have turned off the Google ad sense stuff.  Has anyone else had this issue?  I thought it might have something to do with google plus also, but I don't know my way around these things well enough to judge.

I have spent more time on twitter and Facebook which is not healthy, but also, I felt as if I were boring my readers with my blog.  I wouldn't blame folks if they stopped reading it.  Obviously, if I don't keep it updated well people will stop reading it anyway.  So from time to time, I will drop in and let you know what is going on.

One bit of exciting news that I got today is that a community theater group in Amherst, New York, has actually signed on to do six performances of Haunted Hamlet.  I read that, and I thought, wow.  This is big people theater, and they're serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres   (which I can't spell) but which I looked up.  This is the first time that a theater group and not a high school or junior high has done one of my plays.

I'm trying to listen to an old country singer Marty Robbins as I type this but my computer keeps cutting out.  My laptop is going to die soon, and I have to have one for school and other things.  This is just one thing going wrong that I don't need to go wrong.  It keeps freezing on me.  I got rid of some programs and ran virus scans and all that, but it is still messing up and it really annoys me.

The last four days I have been battling a sinus infection.  I feel better today and will be able to go to work tomorrow.  We had two snow days, but I was really too sick to enjoy them.  That's the way my luck runs at times.  Now that I feel better it's time to go back to work.  I guess I'll get over it.

I am going to write a new play, I think.  I even have a premise for it and some interesting characters.  The characters and the type of play I wanted to do came to me first.  I truly like ensembles.  This play is primarily an ensemble cast.  It's also a comedy with a crusty old shop owner who sells coffe and cupcakes.  The title is not surprisingly Coffee and a Cupcake.

My revisions of Fall of Knight have been slow because I haven't felt good and I have been very busy with school work.  It is a shame that making a living has to replace following your dream.  I envy those people who get to do both at the same time.  It will never happen to me.  I always thought I could write full time when I retire, and I guess I can, but what are the chances of making a great breakthrough in writing when you're 60 or better.  Not much.  It's a young man's game.  and a young woman's.  I sometimes wish I had done things differently in my life, but regrets are not going to change anything.  They just make you forget how truly blessed you are even though you likely don't deserve it.  Are dreams a tool of the devil?  Just a rhetorical question.  But suppose some evil presence did fill our head with dreams so that we would never reach our real potential.  Maybe this evil entity has convinced the man that could cure cancer that he is an actor so the man never gets into medicine to cure cancer and he spends his time chasing dreams, restless and almost crazy because he can't get them.  That might make a good story one of these days.

I think we all believe we are capable of more than we can really do sometimes.  I know that I sometimes have delusions of grandeur.  I have just accepted the fact that I'm not as good at the things I wanted to be good at as I thought I would be.  That's an awkward sentence, but if you read it carefully, it makes sense.

Super Bowl Sunday

What's the big deal?  It really isn't a big deal for me.  I'm not going to any party.  I don't care specifically who wins, though I guess I am sort of rooting for the 49ers because they are in the Rams division, and I like the Ravens less.  I won't be eating wings or drinking beer.  I'll just be sitting here in the living room watching the game.  Not a very exciting life, I know.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm a little isolated from the mainstream.  I don't know why.  Maybe I'm just a little weird.  Maybe I just feel that way today for some reason. Sometimes I get a little wistful.  Also, I think I am feeling a little let-down since finishing the rough draft.  I read it all and outlined the scenes.  That's a good way to find the weaknesses in your manuscript, and I have found several weaknesses in the novel itself.  There's something to be said for outlining in advance, but to me, that destroys some of the fun.  I like to be free to go off in other directions.  The problem is I'm too lazy to go back and build the bridges to link some of those different directions together.

I am starting to think of what I would like to write next.  A few ideas have trickled into my brain.  I don't know if any of them are good or not.  I'm leaning towards doing a screenplay but my odds of selling a screenplay are next to nil, I'd say.  And I think, why do I waste my time writing them?  Am i trying to sell something or am i trying to write something I want to write. Everyone tells you that you should write what you want to write and take care of the publishing end of it later, but others say, write something that you feel as if you can publish somewhere.

Is there any use to even attempt writing something that will likely never see the light of day outside your own computer?  I have no clue.  Perhaps the fault is in my desires to publish when I should just fulfill my desires to write.  I think I have serious self esteem issues, so I am constantly trying to do some things -- things which might be beyone my ability to accomplish -- in order to prove myself.  When I don't get it done, my self esteem crashes.  That's the vicious cycle I live with my life.

It's just been a bad day.  I think I will sign off.  Don't read this if you are in a good mood.

An update

I have nothing important to write about tonight, but I do have some small things that I want to throw out there.  My life isn't all that exciting -- that's why I call this the common joe, don't you know.

The big thing in my life right now is my publishing efforts.  Now, that I have finished Fall of Knight I am searching for an agent first and if this doesn't go well I will try to find a publisher.  The thing is an agent can't get my book in front of publisher who do not take unagented submissions which is becoming more and more common these days.  I can't blame them.  Everyone, including me, thinks he or she has written the next great novel.  I'm hoping I'm the one, but we will see if it turns out that way. I think my writing is good.  I'm not sure anyone else will.

The second thing I can talk about is my attempts to get back into some semblance of shape other than round.  I have joined a gym, and currently, I am spending time swimming, walking, and using the exercise bike and tread mill.  I think I have already begun to lose some weight, but I have only just begun.  I'd like to lose 30 or 40 pounds, but I don't know if that's possible or not.

I have spent most of the day grading papers, and I need to do lesson plans for tomorrow but I am having a hard time getting myself geared up again for school work.

I guess I don't need to waste anymore time.  Good night, one and all.

Fall of Knight Novel Excerpt -- what a party

The next person I look for, of course, is Dee.  I walk up and down the river looking for her.  I don’t talk to anyone because I don’t know most of them, and the ones I do know I don’t want to talk to.  I walk again, almost all the way back to Ella’s house.  At this time, I am beginning to freak out.  What if she’s drowned?

I walk back toward the party, and much to my relief, I see her sitting by herself, pulled into nearly a fetal position in front of the fire as if she’s struggling to stay warm.  This isn’t a good sign.  When I look around, I see Roger with a few of his friends standing several feet outside the feeble light of the fire.  I’m sure he has consumed enough “good shit” to be warm enough.  I tuck away my knowledge of his presence at the wildest party I’ve ever been to – of course, it’s the only one I have EVER been to – and wonder how his baseball coach would react if I spilled what I know.  Assuming I survived.  I decide it will be a defensive tool only.  Surely, Roger and the other athletes undergo random drug tests at least occasionally.  It would be quite a revelation for the coach to find out what is really in Roger’s piss.

                I pause, contemplating whether I should tell Dee what Ella and I found in the cave.  I conclude that she needs to know, so I take a deep breath to steel myself.  How am I supposed to say this?  “Hey, Dee, I think our dead father’s body is in the cave where Ella and I went to make out.  By the way; how’s it going with Roger?”

                I sit down beside her, but before I can open my mouth, she says, “Where the fuck have you been?”

                I don’t answer her for a second as I recover from the wrath of her tone.  Then, I say, “Where the fuck have you been?” Tired and certainly pissed at being talked to like a dog, I say.  “I’m going home.”  Then, I get up and walk away.

                My common sense tells me I should stay with her and explain.  My anger tells me that she should go screw herself.  As often the case, common sense does not work well in a bipolar disordered, angst-ridden teen, who might have just found his dead father, supposedly safely buried in the ground lying with a shattered skull dead in a cave, under his girlfriend’s old house that her crazy father tried to burn down.  Needless to say, I am screwed up royally by the time I get home, and all the voices in my head are talking at once.  Don’t worry; voices don’t talk to me in the sense that I can hear them whispering in my ear telling me to worship Satan and kill kittens, but I hear voices – like parts of my personality or something – all talking in my head.  It’s like if you have ten televisions going on in the background.  I hear distinctive voices – or imagine them or create them (hell I don’t know) – but I’m not schizophrenic.  I think one of my shrinks would have told me by now if I’m schizophrenic.  I guess that doesn’t explain why I see my dad sometimes though, does it?  Shit, you know what just occurred to me.  Maybe I have been seeing my dad’s ghost.  Maybe his spirit is restless since he never got buried properly.

                My mom is still conked out completely when I go inside.  I don’t even have to tiptoe to get past her without waking her.  Dee will come home and pile up on the couch; she’ll give Mom the excuse that Mom was snoring or she, herself, just couldn’t get comfortable so she slept on the sofa.  I don’t know how anyone can sleep on that living room sofa.  It isn’t comfortable; in fact, the best way to describe it is deformed.  We picked it up one time when we were out looking at yard sales where, along with thrift shops and flea markets, Dee and I get a lot of our clothes.  The sign on the couch said, “Free to a good home.  Just ask.”  We talked the people into delivering it to our house where we used to live, and we buy some other junk from them that we don’t need and probably won’t use.  Everyone’s happy. 

                I lie down and try to go to sleep, but my head spins because of what I have taken or of what I have seen, I’m not sure which.  I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the night and can’t help thinking about the monster sucking down souls and spitting out bones.  Later, about an hour or so, I hear the front door open.  Then, I hear the creaking of the couch springs.  Princess Bitch or Dee is home.

                I contemplate going in there and talking to her, but I’m afraid of what I might say to her, and I have learned that in Dee’s case, when I am pissed at her, it’s always better to cool off a little before I try to talk to her.  Besides, it’s past 2 A.M. and I more interested in sleep at the moment.  I wiggle around in my bed until I am more comfortable, and now, that Dee is home, I do begin to feel a little sleepier.  When I am about to drift off to sleep, a sound drifts to me.  Dee crying so softly, I can barely hear her.  Then the great monster mouth swallows me down into darkness.

Not that I'm an expert or anything, but ...

The writer's job is to make his/her characters live.

I have been thinking a lot about writing, and I'm going to give a few pieces of advice that have seemed to be helpful to me -- relatively speaking.  I mean I've published a few things and made some money, but heaven knows I haven't been able to quit my day job and likely never will -- unless you count retirement.

I think the two most important thing writers can focus on are voice and character.  The saying is true that there are no new stories, just different takes on the old ones.  I believe that.  So what will make you stand out -- besides, that is, basic professionalism.  Every author is an individual so that means every author says thing in a different manner than any other author.  If you have happen to have a voice people like to listen to, then you are one step ahead of everyone else. I read writers who have voice.  I don't like formulaic material. It is only in the last two years that I have been developing my voice.  I'm slightly manic depressive, so I can be a lot of different voices, so I have embraced that.  My characters are not predictable, that's for sure. Who are you?  What is it that makes people like you?  If you can somehow transfer that to the page, you're in good shape.

I'm also convinced that a writer must have fascinating characters.  I don't know about anyone else, but when I remember great movies or great books, I remember people.  Memorable characters would be great in any story.  Huck Finn is one of the greatest characters of all time. Samwise and Frodo, likewise.  I spend some time with my characters, and when they surprise me by what they do in the story, then I know I'm going somewhere.

I also think that it is crucial for writers to write.  I know that sounds stupid, but it's true.  In my life as a teacher, I frequently am faced with tons of paperwork.  There were times when I would not touch a story for days because of all the work I had to do, and of course, when I got back to it, it was like eating a cold, soggy sandwich.  No joy in it.  I slip into zones when I write and experience great joy when I do.  I can crank out 1,000 or 2,000 words a day when I'm in a zone. But I've also discovered that even if I can only write 500 words in one day, I can recapture the zone when I pick my story up again.  I think it is absolutely essential to avoid writer's block.

This leads me to my next point.  I don't think writers should be afraid to explore other genres and forms.  When I'm struggling with something in fiction for instance, I'll try to do it as a scene from a screenplay.  And generally, I'm working on at least two projects at once so that if I stall on one, I can work on the other.  Finally, read and then read some more.  How can you possibly expect to be published if you don't read what already is published?  Reading to me is a source of inspiration.  By reading some of John Green's work, I opened a completely new vein in my own work.

Enough from me about writing.  I'm just happy with what I'm doing and sometimes that happiness bubbles over and I have to share.

Today was a rather uneventful day as is most days in my life.  I have graded papers for a large portion of the day, but I have put them aside.  Later on, I intend to work on my novel.  I am so close to being finished.  It was a beautiful day here in Missouri with temperatures near 60. Temperatures are going to plunge in the next day or two with lows in the single digits Monday night I think.  Missouri weather is like a middle-aged woman going through menopause.  I don't mean anything sexist by that.  If you have lived with a menopausal woman or suffered it yourself, you know exactly what I am talking about.  Well, anyway, I did take advantage of the day and my wife and I went for a walk.  I have joined a gym in my efforts to get myself back in shape.  I will keep you posted on how it goes.

Just a short post to say Hey

Hey.  Whazzup?  I went past the 63,000 mark in my novel.  Dee Knight is gone.  I'm not going to see any more than that.  When I get my three book deal and huge advance and Fall of Knight is published by a huge publisher, you'll just have to buy it to find out exactly what has happened to her and what will happen to Dean.  I think you'll find it delightful.  (In a weird kind of way -- then, again, the novel is about mental illness.)

Tonight is the first night my Composition II class meets.  I have 14 students in it, four of whom I know to one degree or another.  I think it will be an interesting class.  At least I hope so.  I am hoping these people are not afraid to talk.  I am hoping that they can write reasonably well.  I hope ... I hope ... I hope ...

School at North County is going well although I am still looking forward to retirement.  I hope that when I do retire I am in the midst of completing those three books some publisher gives me a contract for.  I have the beginning stirring of ideas for my other two, both of whom just might -- not decided for sure yet -- have Dean Knight as a character also.

I also like to write Middle Grade or Tween humor.  That's what Walt Michaels is a Weenie is about as is Rosetta Stone Diaries.  I wonder how far I would be as a writer if I knew then (30 years ago) what I know now.  Well, I should sign off.

Sorry, not incredibly exciting news.

Another novel excerpt

I almost smile, save my story, and log onto the history module.  I’m doing the Civil Rights movement.  I wonder when crazy people will get civil rights.  You can’t see how I’m different from you.  My problems are definitely more than skin deep.  My pain goes all the way into my soul.  You just look up and see a geek, or a goth, or a cutter, or something.  You never really see me.  I think maybe I ought to write stories about crazy people, get people to understand us a little better.
I answer a 20 question quiz over the Civil Rights Movement and get an 85%, a solid B.  I’m happy with that
“Knight.”
I nearly jump out of my chair. The zookeeper laughs at me.  He shouldn’t be tormenting the animals.  I suddenly get this vision of a monkey in a glass cage and some spoiled, snotty kid tapping the glass to annoy the hell out of him.
“Just got an I.M. from the main building.  Ms. Mack needs to see you in the office.”
“What’d I do?”  I ask, immediately paranoid.
“Nothing that I know of.”
  I sit there.
“Go,” he says.
“Don’t I need some kind of escort?” I ask.
“Why?  You’re not the Prince of Sheba.”
Reluctantly, I walk out the door and up the covered breezeway toward the main building, also prison like, but merely minimum security.  Alternative school is hard time.  I step up to the back door and swipe my student I.D. over the sensor.  The door beeps, and I’m in.  The locked doors and the motel keys ie the student I.D. are supposed to add extra security to the school.  If I’m going to come in and shoot up a bunch of bass, I don’t think I’m going to have much trouble getting around these security measures.
I go into the office where the secretary greets me. Mr. Knight, go on in; they’re expecting you. ‘They’ are the principal and Ms. Mack.
“Do you know why we’ve called you here?”
“What’s wrong with Dee?”
Ms. Mack looks puzzled.  The principal says, “Your sister?  Is she in some kind of trouble?”

I can see they have no idea what I’m talking about.  This relieves me.
“No ... I just thought... never mind.  Why do you need me?”
“Well, when you went into the hospital,” Ms. Mack begins, “I sent a message to the educational coordinator there – she’s my niece – to keep a close eye on you and to get you to write something for her.”
“Something suitable,” the principal says.
“And apparently you did,” Ms. Mack says. “She submitted it to a children’s book publisher – a small press, so your advance won’t be high – but your royalties may bring in a lot more.”
“No shit,” I say before I can stop myself.
“No shit,” Ms. Mack says.
“I’m sorry.  It slipped.”
The principal looks at me with one of those, I want you to think about something, looks. Her eyes narrow and her brow wrinkles.  I am afraid to say anything else.
“I want you to think about something, Dean,” the principal begins, and I almost laugh because I’m feeling just a little bit giddy, like I do when I’m in manic overdrive.  Only this time my happiness is real, not some kind of brain misfire. “Think about what this means.  Despite all of the odds stacked against you, you are able to overcome.”
I frown a little because I don’t know where this is going.
Ms. Mack says, “You know the stigma people – especially teens – with mental illness have to endure.”
If anyone does, I do, but I still don’t know where this is going.
The principal says, “You are a shining example that those with mental problems are just as valuable to society as anyone else.  You have battled the battle and you have won the victory. Do you know what kind of role model you could be for kids with mental illness?”
I feel myself getting mad.  I don’t want to be some kind of poster child for the insane, but then Ms. Mack says, “Can you imagine how your life would have been different if you had been able to talk to someone just like you, someone who overcame and could tell you that hell yeah, life is worth living.  Did you know that the third leading cause of death for teenagers is suicide?  The rate for teens who are bullied is even higher.  And the rate for teens with mental disorders – well, you can imagine.”
“I’m not sure I can do this kind of thing,” I say, being honest.
“You are incredibly intelligent.  In four weeks of independent work at the hospital, you increased two grade levels in English, Math, and History.  You read on the graduate degree level, and I’m not talking about high school graduate.”

Relaxation without guilt.

I am sitting sipping on a cup of hot coffee and munching on the dwindling supply of leftover peanut butter fudge from Christmas.  It's still delicious.  Later, I intend to write.  As long as I am in the zone and don't have a lot of schoolwork to do, I'm going to write.  And write some more.  There will come a time -- I will predict somewhere around the beginning of February when the walls will once again close in, stifling my creativity.  I have about 10,000 words to go.  Today I started re-reading the first draft and fixing some minor issues.  It's about to blow up in my character's face -- in the proverbial tree so to speak with people loading up on rocks.

My character's world is going to crumble and take him down too.

I am trying very hard to write a realistic YA novel, and sometimes it gets to me even as I write it.  I am sure other writers have had difficulty writing their novels because the topic is so intense.  Mental illness is about as tense as it can get, especially when it strikes a kid.

I don't have any interesting new happening in my life. Classes start up again for MaC next week.  I only have one class this semester.  With 13 students last I checked, it has already made.  Comp 2.  Why do I do it to myself.

I need to read another good book.

Milestone

I am sure I have stupidly built up my expectations for the coming year; I have been known to entertain thoughts that some people consider delusions.  I have always striven for the self-actualization phase of Maslow's hierarchy of needs.  In some way I have touched upon it, but I don't know that I have ever achieved it.  I think the problem is the "self" actualization phase.  As long as a person is focused on self, I don't think h/she will ever be completely satisfied.  I have had periods of my life when my faith was especially strong, when matters of the family have been wonderful, when professionally, I have been at the top of my game.  I have had periods too of intense creativity -- which may have been fueled by the flames of mania to which I am prone.  Of course, with all good times, there are bad times.  The past year was one of those bad times.  The end of 2011 and most of 2012 have not been great years for me.  My creativity has sputtered and in some cases nearly died away.  When my mother died, I questioned the meaning of everything.  My daughter got married and left the nest for good.  She married a good man, but it still doesn't take the sting out of her being gone. I have sputtered and stumbled professionally often falling prey to periods of depression and feelings of uselessness.  Sometimes, I feel as if I am too old to be doing what I'm doing, as if the times have passed me by, and I'm a teacher still stuck in the 80's.

Things began to turn around a little for me though the last few months of 2012.  Part of that is because my spring semester at school is going to be easier and I won't feel as if the walls are closing in on me all the time. Part of that is my novel which I have immersed myself into, and I still believe it is the best thing I have ever done.  I am giving myself one more chance to have the kind of publishing experience I have always longed for.  If Fall of Knight does not find itself a publisher, I am not going to beat my head against the wall anymore.  I am going to retire in a few years, and I want to enjoy it.  I've also decided that unless I get canned I am going to forgo finding any other teaching job.  I'll retire at North County unless MAC walks up to me and offers me a full time position.  I'll wait for grandkids to come along so that I can spoil them.

I want to read more books, listen to more music, watch more movies, and travel to more places.  I want to get myself back into shape -- I gained 8 pounds over the holidays.  I want to watch my health and sharpen my mind.  I don't want to get older; I want to get better.

The title of this blog today is Milestone.  I have only a hand full of views to go before I hit 10,000.  I never thought so many people would want to read anything I have written.  Thanks to all of you who are fans of my boring -- and yes, satirical Facebook updates, my crossbytes which sometimes come pretty easily, my novel excerpts and my blog.  I hope in some small way I may have inspired you, made you think, or made you mad.  Until later.  Aloha.

Out of the Hospital, but Better? New novel excerpt

After Fall of Knight is published and the movie rights optioned to it, I want Catherine Zeta Jones to play Dean's mother.  First, she is one of the most beautiful women alive, and second, she knows about mental illness.

                 

                  Dr. Adams smiles, "You seem better, Dean."

                “I am … much.  Uh, can I ask you something?  I mean if it none of my business let me know.”

                “I will.  What’s on your mind?”

                “Is Rocky – I mean, Roxanne – okay?”

                “She’s better than okay, Dean.  She’s been discharged.  In fact, she’s on her way home this very moment.”

Chapter 24

                I play the game.  I’ve been in their hospitals and group therapy rooms before.  I know what they want from me and I give it.  I “accept” my disability.  I talk about my lousy childhood and how I never got the love from my dad I needed.  I cry when I talk about how Mom resents me – that I am the one left alive and her husband is dead.  I talk about my sister and how she’s looking for love in all the wrong places.  I tell them a little about the beast, but not that I know it’s after me and people like me.  It would eat Rocky too.

                I do my school work, and I do it well.  If I understand it, I ace it.  If I don’t understand it, I bullshit it. I catch up to grade level in math, I even do a couple of speeches without dying, and I complete my creative writing project – a children’s story if you can believe it.  My teacher keeps it and tells me it’s good enough to get published.  She knows some publishers.  Empty promises.  Lies. I get through it. 

                And more than that, I take my meds.  I take this crap that I can’t pronounce, one tablet a day.  Two hits of Depakote, one hit of Prozac, and the occasional bite of xanax as the need arises.  I pretend like I sleep at night though I don’t, and I try eating my fruits and vegetables, but I nearly puke with each bit of food I take.

                I survive.  I do everything right – for four weeks -- well, 29 days, 8 hours and 33 minutes to be exact..  I’m sitting in Dr. King’s office for my final, “We’re proud of you, Son, go back out in the world, but be careful out there speech.”  I don’t get it.  Instead, Dr. King looks at me and speaks honestly.

                “Since Day one, I’ve told you I’m not a bull shitter, Dean.  Since Day one, I’ve thought you were.  I hope I’m wrong.  I hope you have truly realized the gravity of your illness.  I hope you go on; you get married, and you have perfectly normal children who grow up to be perfectly smart-assed teenagers with a life full of surprise and promise.  I want that for you.  If I’m not wrong, I will see you again: in here, in jail, or in a funeral home.”

                He stands and extends his hand. “It’s a warm sunny day.  Surprisingly so for November.”  We shake; I make sure my grip is firm and confident.  “I want you to spend some time being thankful with the holidays coming up.”

                “I am,” I say.  Thankful to be out of this shit-hole.

                “Your mom will be here shortly.  Come on.  I’ll walk you to the parking lot.”

                I pass Marcus, Dr. Adams, and a couple of my teachers on the way out.  Then, I  see John.  We haven’t exactly become friends in my time at the hospital, but we talk.  He’s pretty happy with his Abby – almost like Roxanne never existed. She stands beside him, her hand in his. I shake his free hand.

                “Good luck, Dude,” John says.

                “I’ll look up Rocky on Facebook, and tell her you said hi.”  I say, thinking that only douchebags call people dude anymore.

                “Sure,” he says.  “Go after her, dude.  I think she likes you.”

                “Might do that,” I say though I know I won’t.  She’s always going to be a part of my life that I connect with the hospital.  I don’t want to think about this part once I leave it.

Saturday's all right

It has been a good day for the most part although I don't like the way that the Green Bay Packers are kicking the Vikings around.  I figured the Vikings would at least put up a good fight.  I like the Packers, but I tend to root for the underdogs in playoff games.  I think we all like to see the Davids defeat the Goliaths occasionally.  To be perfectly honest, I don't really care who winds up in the Super Bowl this year.  To be even more perfectly honest, I couldn't even tell you all the teams who are in the playoffs this year.  I enjoyed watching the Rams, but I didn't reall follow anyone else.

I'm more interested in other things.  For instance, pitchers and catchers report for spring training in February.  I prefer baseball over football most of the time.  Also, Downton Abbey comes back on tomorrow.  Yes, I am more interested in that than football.  Does that make me a girlyman.  I just like to watch the character interaction in that show.

You know what's a shame?  I've not seen the Hobbit yet.  I want to watch the new -- is it 48 fps -- film version in 3-D.  One of my students said it gave her a headache to watch it.  I think it's one of those new techniques that will eventually revolutionize the movie industry when they know how to harness it correctly.  I admire Peter Jackson for experimenting with it.  He's not afraid of trying new things.

I'm afraid my laptop is dying on me.  I was trying to type on my novel and it froze up on me three different times.  I think it was because I was trying to download some music at the same time. I don't know, but it really annoyed the heck out of me.  I've done over 56,,500 words. I need to revise a lot but I do love the story, and I do believe it is the best thing I have ever done.  Tomorrow, if time allows, I will put up another excerpt.  I have gotten to the point in the story where Dean has been released from the mental hospital and he's in alternative school until he can hack it in the regular classroom.  Something is wrong with his sister Dee, but he has no clue what it is.  I'm actually on page 203.

I should get off this computer and do something constructive.  I have a book I'm reading, another YA novel called Stotan by Chris Krucher.  It's pretty good but it lacks the depth I have found in some other YA literature.  I also have Life of Pi that I started, but I've put on hold until I catch up on some other stuff.  My lit course is going to be reading One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and I'll also re-read it.  Hmmm.  Sounds like I have enough to keep me busy

Thank God's It's Friday

I have continued working on my Young Adult novel, The Fall of Knight.  Today, I passed the 55,500 word mark.  I think it will be about 70,000 words by the time it is all over.  The climax of the novel is approaching fast.   I hope I can keep myself within the haze of creativity which I have been in lately.  I have discovered an important lesson in the writing of this novel.  I've learned it's very important to not let a day go by without working on a project.  It's like the scent that a blood hound follows.  If you let it go for too long without following it, you lose all interest in it.  That has always been my problem with my writing.  I would have periods -- generally the summer time and during long vacations from school when I would really be inspired, but then when school got busy, I would not write, and the story would go cold on me.  It's hard to keep up the flow if you hesitate too much.

I am still eating on the leftover candy from the Christmas season.  So there's at least one resolution I have not been working on very hard in 2013 yet.  I don't really have too many others except for the one about being more consistent in my writing.  I have so far done that.  I have to do 2 or 3 thousand words a week at least.  If I can keep at it, I want to write every day as I have been.  I am not going to have to work as hard this semester because I have fewer students.  This will be a great relief.

I don't have any sports to watch for a while.  I don't care for basketball until it gets to the March madness season, and then I watch some of the games.  I haven't watched much college football this year either.  The Tigers did not have a great season so that didn't help.  The Rams were interesting.  They finished 7-8-1.  I think they'll win 9 or 10 games next year depending on who they pick up in the draft.  They are still not the same class as the elite teams, but they are at least talented enough to where they can win on any given Sunday.

As far as the baseball Cardinals go, I don't have any idea how they will do this year.  I think they will have a great pitching staff.  I don't think they will have enough hitting, and I think their defense will bit them in the rear a lot too.

I am getting ready to start another book.  My literature course is going to be assigned One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest which is one of my favorite books.  I'll read the occasional young adult novel as interesting ones comes available.  I love to read.

Lately, I have been listening to a lot more mellow music.  I do and have always liked groups with good harmony.  Lately I've picked up on Nickel Creek, Milk Carton Kids, the Civil Wars, Clannad and some others.  I took a chance on a group called the Lumineers.  I read about them.  I've kind of gotten to where I like a genre that I can only describe as alternative folk.  Weird, huh?

Well, I guess I need to be signing off.  I plan on posting another novel excerpt some time this weekend.  I really need some feedback now that I am getting close to being finished with the novel.

Fall of Knight Excerpt: New Girl in Dean's Life?

          

This Young Lady would be perfect to play the part of Roxanne in Fall of Knight

As I am about to finish my milk like a good patient who has been called a danger to self and others, I look up to see Rocky coming into the dining area.  John walks up to her, but she brushes past him and walks in my direction.  If looks could kill – John would be going up on murder charges – and I would be worm food.  In Hamlet – don’t ask me why I have suddenly thought of Hamlet – Hamlet talks about the worm who has “et” if I recall correctly of the rich man and how that worm could be put on the hook of a poor fisherman to catch the fish that the poor fisherman eats for supper and thus the rich man passes through the guts of the beggar.  I totally get this scene.  Of course, Hamlet is nuts at this time and has just murdered Polonius for reasons I can never understand.  At least I had a reason for nearly killing Jerret.

            Rocky sits beside me. John leaves the room, and only Rocky and I remain at the table.

“I’ll tell you about my beast if you tell me about yours,” she says, and I feel as if I’m a kid who’s just been asked to play doctor with the neighbor girl.  She puts her hand on my leg and I feel myself stiffen – in more ways than one. 

“Who was it?”  I ask.  I think I know the kind of beast Rocky is battling.

            She jerks her hand away – which is what I want and don’t want at the same time.  “My mother’s boyfriends.”

            “Friends?”

            Rocky looks down in shame.  “I had a friend once who told me he got together with this girl because her mom was such a great cook.  Stupid bastard.  My mom’s friends got together with her because it made it easy for them to get together with me.  Repeatedly.”

            I want to tell her how sorry I am, but most of us who are crazy, know saying you’re sorry is pretty lame.  It’s like telling someone who’s being burned alive that you’ll get them a glass of water. I feel a helpless kind of rage inside me because I know there’s nothing I can do to put out Rocky’s fire.  Meds will damper it, but she’ll never be all right.  She’ll never be cool.

            “I’ve never told anyone this,” she says.

            “They think you have clinical depression.  The suicide attempts.  They don’t know the real reason?”

            “And they never will.”

            “But why?  The bastards who did this to you–“

            “Will get away with it because I'm not telling. If I do,  I’ll be the dirty bitch forever.  The one banged by all her stepfathers.”

            I don’t argue with her because I know it’s true.  People will feel sorry for you but say you asked for it behind your back.

            “Your mom?”

            “She’s on number six now.  She says he’s nice.”

            “Maybe he is,” I say.

            A young woman in a clean white coat comes into the dining area.  She must be the relief.

            “I’m just now eating, Dr. Adams,” Rocky says.

            Dr. Adams looks at me.

            “I’m new here.  I’m not sure where to go next.”

            “You’re Dean, right?”

            “Correct,” I say.

            “You need to come with me.  Usually at 6, we do group with one of the night crew, or we do follow up visits to deal with the day’s events.  I need to visit with you for a few minutes, Dean. Rocky, you’ve had a bad day, according to Dr. King.  You need to go to your group.”  Two orderlies come in. “Make sure Rocky makes it to the group meeting.  Come along, Dean.”

             “She thinks I’m going to kill myself on the way,” Rocky says.

            “I don’t risk anything with desperate people,” Dr. Adams says.