So far I will not be able to retire on the sales revenues from my newly published book, How to Play a Blue Guitar. I confess that I have not been especially helpful explaining what this book is.
Is it a manifesto about how to live a life of peace in a turbulent world? a cry for sanity in an insane world? a chuckle among friends? an oddball collection of diverse thoughts and fables around more or less a common theme? a serious attempt to step up and say something even if no one cares to listen? a frivolous jumble published on a sudden whim? a ponderous, jubilant shout from a man trapped in a world he never made?
“You think filling six pages of a journal is going to change anything, sport?” she smirked. “No, it’s going to take more than that. It’s going to take sitting down and writing and writing and writing and writing and taxing your brain and squeezing out every last word even when you’d rather close your eyes and drift away back to sleep — especially then, when sleep calls and you want to escape so much that you can feel your soul reaching out its arms to Dreamland — but no, you’ll need to keep writing and telling the stories, because they’re all that will be left of you when that fat jiggly lump of dough has given up the ghost and your spirit jumps away into wherever spirits go when their body wears out.
“That’s what it’s going to take, sport, so stop pissing around like it’s a damn hobby. The words aren’t stamps or old coins or even rare records or key comic books. The words are your legacy, the inheritance you’re going to pass on to an unappreciative posterity, so make them count, or more important, just make them. Make the words. Do, it, I tell you! Tell the stories! Share your soul!
“But first — sigh — find out why the dog is whining …”
We spend a lot of time thinking back about what happened, what could or “should” have happened, missteps made, things that didn’t get done that could have made things better, things that did get done that seem to have made things worse.
We all know something about regrets and second-guessing. If only I’d taken steps to get out of that situation long before I did; if only I’d stayed and toughed it out … if only I’d saved my money instead of spending it or going into debt … if only I’d said something; if only I’d kept my mouth shut … if only I’d carved out time to write that book; if only I’d written a better one … if only I’d done something when I had the chance; if only I hadn’t done what I did … Continue reading “If only I stopped saying ‘if only’”→
Fear not, lass. It has been this cold before, and the leaves have fallen off the trees, and the waters have risen this high, and the deserts have grown so parched – and then the warm comes, and the leaves grow, and the waters recede, and rains come.
It is a cycle, you see, and nothing good or bad continues and remains unchanging. Do not fear the change, but prepare for the next phase of the cycle. Understand the patterns and don’t be alarmed when the change comes. Night follows day, cold follows warmth and back to cold and back to warm. Continue reading “The cycle and the sharing”→
This is Update #2 of my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) adventure. In Update #1 I wrote glowingly of launching into the requirement to write 1,667 words a day in order to finish a 50,000-word novel in one month. It was surprisingly working like a charm.