Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Pictures Of A New Book: Part Thirty Six

A friend. Multiple years. The type you meet in your twenties. Face and experience martital divorce with during the rugged 30's. Helps you mentally and physically after taking a middle aged man near fatal hit. That type of friend. Sends me an email, "Please stop putting your writing on Linkedin. It's designed for business only." Pausing for a moment. Maybe two. But more like ten. I begin to think, "Writing is my business. I write books. I Blog for radio station websites. I write radio and television commercials. Wedding vows! Four hour Broadcasting lectures and fourth thousand business emails every day. I write!" The sign above the door should read: Don't let friends email you. Julia Cameron spent a lot of money printing out her reasons why Artists tend to go silent. Teachers with giant red pens. When it comes to marking up your words. They have a Backstage Pass. You have to believe what they say! They're the teacher! Friends with emails, Face Book, Twitter and texting are just as dangerous. My new book Scrambled Eggs is fourteen chapters deep into its second draft. Fricken having the time of my life spitting words out of my fingertips. I'm riding the greatest high since my last book Conversation With The Devil pulled from my port during the summer of 2009. I broke the biggest Julia Cameron rule: Don't let friends read your writing. A different friend. The friend that edited my book The Blizzard White Canvas: Halloween 78. She totally gets me! Grasping my oddness. Professional editors and writers have this invisible relationship. A bond. Not a protection device but a clear path as to where the mind body and soul drift off to when a writing instrument falls into my hand. Her exact comment was, "Are you having fun writing this one? If so... that's all that counts." This is what my heart heard, "What a piece of ****. Seven published books into your life and this is the best you can come up with? I thought you said this was the set of pages that would take your writing up to the top of the mountain. Dude. I had to buy a shovel and bury it." It took me nearly a week to get over her initial true comment. I shut the world out! I wanted nothing to do with anybody. I mean how could a book idea that's taken over my life far greater than any other be labeled the perfect liner for a trash can? I didn't write at my normal time this morning. Scrambled Eggs went untouched. My brown eyes rolling slowly across the room from left to right. Then up and down. The typical child that knows a little too much. Most of it being the reason why nothing was tapped onto the computer screen. I gave Chapter Fourteen to the editor friend to read. She said, "I just can't get into this one. I'm sure it's a great story. The most important thing is...you're having fun right?" This is what my heart heard, "Why are you wasting my time? Don't you get it? Blogging every day on radio station websites has destroyed your ability to share a story. You idiot! Readers want more than quick sentences and sharp to the point picture painting. You don't have what it takes to keep modern books alive. Just stop! Please before you hurt yourself!" I thought being a Jock on the Radio was a tough performance. Come to think of it. If Jocks could see their listeners; 98% of those making noise on car speakers couldn't handle it when someone in the backseat screams, "Change the station!" The waitress delivering hot food to a restaurant table? What makes them so tough in the art of downplaying customer rejection? A politician that finds out their best friend of multiple years didn't put in a vote for them this past November. The doctor that can't fix their child's broken smile. I write. I'm not sure why. I won't say it's because writing makes me breathe better. Especially when I enjoy writing scenes that steal my breath. I don't write to brag. Then I would just stop. But I can't. It's creative diarrhea. You've gotta get the stuff out or the damn headaches set in. It's not my goal to become famous through writing. It's just my need to one day meet the writer that was silent before deciding, "I can do this. He makes it seem like so much fun." Now my job is done.

1 comment:

  1. I think you should post your writing wherever you want to. It is called FREEDOM.

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