The Writer's Update, or, I'm Writing, I'm Just not Telling You...

Sunday morning, and for probably the last time this hockey season, I'm not behind the board doing the Bears game. Actually, I have a couple of days where someone else is going to have to do it, because I'm still seriously trying to keep together all of the things I'm doing, all at once, and all at the same time.


First, let us begin with a shameless plug...



I was not about to let you get away without it. Trailers have become a thing in this business, and as usual, I'm about years behind the curve. I have to find the video read that an actress did of the first chapter of "Searching for Roy Buchanan" a while back, really well done. That was for the WildSound contest in Canada, and while I didn't win anything, it was a useful exercise.


Anyway, that video I did myself with Animoto; this was suggested to me by my publisher. Needless to say, it was not too difficult to work with. I pieced that together in a couple of hours, using shots, their simple tools and stock music.


I had to pay up the ass for that little add-on...fuckers. But I want the musicians to get paid. Nick Petrov did the awesome guitar; I came across it, and it fit the project pretty well.


I think I will do more of these (gotta make it worth the buy) for my other books in time, and if anyone else would like something of the sort, I can't see why I can't do it for them. These are the kinds of things I don't have training in, and I might as well learn some new skills.


So, beyond this, what the fuck has been going on? I have been in a manic brain spin the past few months. There is a lot going on in the real world, and my work schedule is as usual out of whack with the rest of us.


I have regular projects for the Radio PA Network, and the Bears, through iHeart Radio and the other things I do there, and Lebanon Valley has been keeping me busy on the AM and FM. I'm now the station's Swiss Army Knife.


That is good, you would think. Let's see what the new owners say, once the deal is done.


It would be nice to have a base for the remainder of my career, while I subsidize my alleged literary activities. On that score, I'm back in Shippensburg in November for the annual book fair at the Thought Lot, and I'm doing a house party again in Jim Thorpe, where I'll get to pitch my stuff.


And in between, while covering the Reading Blues Festival, I might be able to shamelessly plug in November. Lots to do, lots to do.


And pay for. Fuck me, but I'm living proof that inflation and cost of living did not include our wages. Fuck anyone who bitches about people not saving money, when you have none to save.


I will not go into detail about what I think of people who may have worked hard once in their lives, but highly not likely, and are now fat, happy, comfortable and perfectly fine with the Commoners starving, dying and killing themselves around them.


I saw a man in the rain this morning, wheeling a bicycle, all his belongings in a bin bag. Where he was going, I don't know. He was not begging, not pretending to be homeless; he was walking, and going about his business.


I could have been that guy years ago. I fear I will be that guy one day. If it came to that, I honestly think I would end my life. I would say, as far as I got in life, it wasn't all bad, but I will not be a burden to my family who barely knows me, and not to a society that does not give a fuck about us anyway.


That said...I'm really in okay shape. It's not ideal, but it is not bad. I'm going to make it work; always did, even when it didn't feel that way.


Now, where are we? I think I should tell about the writing thing...


I'm still promoting "Searching..." by any means necessary. I have gotten the sequel, "Call it Love" right about where I want it now. It feels really good. I am awaiting permission for a license from the hideous Universal Music, for the Poco song (which they didn't write, by the way). Everything else is kinda there.


The third book is looking good...it expands on the time travel, and we begin to see how Aki and the gang have grown up, how they have handled the transition into adulthood, and how they deal with a lot of shit.


We will also begin to see the introduction of what will be a new arc in the story, with regards to time travel, and what exactly Aki's mother was up to all this time. That is going to be a future story, not so much for her, but another generation.


There are going to be more arcs in the series than anything else...I have no idea how this is going to work, I really don't.


I have spent some time of late, working on other stories. I have eight manuscripts that are young adult in nature, but are not involved in the series. They are separate stories, because they're all different characters, different settings, but they deal with some significant issues. I like how most of them are shaping up.


And I have a new one I have to get to work on in the coming years. There's a lot to do here, folks.


This is what I do. I would rather write, and enjoy the world circulating about me as I watch it from a slightly cynical eye and find people I recognize that work for these things.


I'm finding what I love, and letting it kill me, as Charles Bukowski advised. Only I don't need the whiskey to do it.


Some years ago, George Carlin did a short video on various entertainers, obviously people he knew in the business, and the one thing he talked about was growth. Did someone grow as an artist?


That was really telling. Elvis Presley, he said, did not grow, and Carlin was not a fan of what he did to black music. Sammy Davis, Jr. did not grow he said, had passable skills, but remembered him as a genuinely nice person. Frank Sinatra he praised as a great singer, who grew as an artist, became a better performer and actor...but was not a nice person, especially to "the little guy." "Fuck him."


He praised Michael Jackson, for talent, growth and giving his all to his craft. Carlin then made a snide joke about what Michael was alleged to have done with kids, so you can take that either way. But said there was an example of someone who worked like hell to be the best he could be. Elton John's recent comments about Michael are telling; a kid who never could grow up, and insulated himself from reality because he could.


There are a lot of people like that. In business, politics, entertainment, religion, you name it. People who keep those who will defend them, wash their balls, and tell them only how great they are. And then, when all their young servants drift way, what is left?


If they don't kill themselves, they die inside, and slowly.


The last thing I want is that. I do not want to be insulated; if I fuck things up, I want someone to tell me, and why. My work is never finished, and I will never be fat and happy; no fucking way.


If you become that, you are finished. I hate comfortable people, who say the same things every day, like hitting a sound bit on the button bar. Who tell the same stories, the same jokes, the same shit, because they can't look out, they won't grow, they won't learn anything new. This is our problem: we have lost the ability to learn.


We can learn so much from the younger generations, but we're too busy criticizing them, belittling them, sneering at them, and protecting ourselves from the new game. The rules have changed. If we are not careful, we will be left behind.


Many of us already have. Can't tell you how certain older people (or my age) whine there's no respect for them anymore.


No...respect is earned, not given.


You will get it, when you show it. Forget where you came from, did you? Well, it's not a crime; we all do it. Think next time before you open your fucking pie-hole and pour more booze down it, or suck on your cigar, or take whatever Rx drug you've been given. Whine about how I dare to have a skinny mocha latte (because I like it), while you pour another glass of that 100-dollar muddy water you call a drink.


I personally don't give a shit what you do or don't do. Just don't criticize without looking at yourself.


So I write this, why? Well, this gets everyone out, clears the board, and lets me get back to work. The real work, which is getting my next book ready, and the others. I don't have a big-name agent behind me; I don't have a big-deal contract; they're not making movies about my books, yet. All in time. I just hope to be in this body long enough to see some of it happen.


The payoff is seeing your reactions. If you dig it, great. If not, that's