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  • Thoughts While Alt Side Parking: Rejection

    First of all, it’s cold out. Second, the car that is parked in front of me is like six inches from my bumper, which does hack me off. And third, the traffic cop is here to write tickets, he’s checking cars, but he’s not writing tickets. All of this is very strange to me.

    Seriously, the cop just made a second pass, and he’s still not writing tickets. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not rooting for the guy to write tickets, but if your job is to write tickets, then why aren’t you doing your job? And, we’re all watching him not do his job.

    Anyway, I go that off my chest.

    I got rejected from my fifteenth magazine yesterday. I have one more submission that is floating out there, but being that this piece has been rejected seven other times, odds don’t seem to be good. BUT, I do have three other magazines lined up that I am planning on submitting to, which I will hopefully send off this weekend. I had wanted to get something published this year. Anything, anywhere would have been fine, but you know, things don’t always work out.

    With the situation I am in, the lack of publication, I have been trying to do a round of honest circumspection of my efforts, and see where I need to improve and make changes.

    First of all, I need more material. The last five months of the year I have not been as productive as the first six months. That includes not only creating new work, but also rewriting and editing. Though I am confident in what I have written, I do think the beginning of my stories could use a little more work – refining to better get the story started. I also subscribe to the John Lennon theory of writing – “You got to write a lot of bad songs first before you start writing good songs.” I may still be in my bad song phase.

    Second, I don’ think I submitted to enough publications. Well, I don’t think that, I know that. Just twenty-ish submissions in a year is too low. I should have put more of a priority on researching publications, and prioritizing who I felt would work best with what I write. (This process does feel a bit like throwing shit on a wall, and seeing what sticks.) Funny thing is that this part of the process reminds me the most of my acting days back in Dallas. I really love rehearsing, and performing, but I hate auditioning. So, submitting is paralleling auditioning in my mind, as these are the least fun parts of both processes. Yet, I went on a ton of auditions in Dallas, and I got rejected more than cast, but I did get cast a lot, because I went on so many auditions. I just have to remind myself of that; you got to show up if you want to be seen.

    Third, I just need to relax. Maybe something will come from all of this work. Maybe nothing will happen. But all of this does give me the felling of purpose, which I haven’t had in a while. I don’t wake up angry or dreading the day. Maybe I am delusional. Maybe I’m lying to myself to think that some unemployed forty-five-year-old guy can just up a start a new career in a creative field that is notorious for being highly unfair, and for those who do “make it” is laughably under compensated. But this delusion has made not as angry at the world. It’s helped me process the passing of my mother, and deal with all of the Covid anxiety. That’s worth something.

    Anyway, I have room to grow, and I also need to do better. Like all things in life, if you want it, it takes hard work. I just need to relax and work harder.

    That was a decent pep talk.

    And just so you know, that cop came by again, and still didn’t write any tickets.

    (So, umm… You know, if you are enjoying this narcissistic delve into my id this morning, then please, by all means, give this blog a like, or share, or comment on your struggles. And I’m open to follows as well.)

  • Short Story Review: “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle

    (The short story “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle appeared in the November 7th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Spoilers, I guess)

    (Photograph by Jacob Mitchell for The New Yorker)

    Well… Stories like “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle make me feel like an asshole. I’m going to have criticisms about this story that will seem to total up to a negative review. But I don’t dislike this story, I think people should read it, Coraghessan is a talented writer, yet there are issues that I can’t ignore nor rationalize out.

    So, this story is about a young woman drug addict who wanders into an unlocked house and falls asleep in a teenage girl’s room. The single mother, whose house it is, calls the cops and the young woman is arrested. Early the next morning, when the young woman is released by the cops, she wanders into the woods of a nearby park, and discovers the body of a little girl, but the addict doesn’t call the cops for fear that she’s be accused of the murder. The single mother has issues with her teenaged daughter, and after some time passes, the addict wanders back into the house. The End.

    The structure of this story alternates between the addict and then the single mother. It’s close to linear, but some sections do jump ahead in time over the other. It’s an effective form to keep the story moving, but it wasn’t conducive in helping create a sense of climax, conclusion or even catharsis. The addict just keeps being an addict, but now she’s an addict with more guilt for not having come forward about the murdered child. The single mother keeps having a rocky relationship with her teenaged daughter. I would think that by using this structure, we’d come to some point where these two lives interact and bring about some resolution, but that never arrives. Yes, the addict returns back to the home at the end, but the way it’s laid out, it is presented as more of a coincidence, rather than the addict making a choice to look for that home. Also, the dead child seems to be poised to have some influence on the characters, but that also doesn’t amount to anything. Though the addict feels guilty, the guilt doesn’t change her behavior. And even when the single mother recognizes the murdered girl, that also bring about no change. All of these tangents are presented, but none of them add up to anything. And the story doesn’t feel like it’s trying to make a point about how dark and unchanging the world is.

    Now, I did say that I liked this story, and I thought people should read it, and that is still true. I did like the structure and the alternating between the characters. The writing is good, quick, and not overindulgent, which makes the story pull you in. And I was engaged with this story as I was reading it, but as I pointed out above, it stumbled, in my estimation. I guess what the story feels like is the first chapter of a novel, or a first draft of this idea. It either needs to be worked on some more, or it has a bigger story to tell.

    It just needs to choose one and go with it.

    (Why, hello there! I am glad you made it this far, and I would like to ask you to do one more thing for me. Please, take a moment to like this blog. In fact, feel free to comment, share or even follow it as well. The more interaction I get, the more that hole in my soul closes up!)

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  • Power to the Twit

    How does the line go? “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.” I think it was Maya Angelou who said that, and I also hold that she is correct. If I might add a caveat to that statement, and I am speaking only from my personal experience, I never realize that someone is showing who they are in real time; it’s always after the fact.

    I sort of feel that’s what happening with Elon Musk and Twitter. I don’t think he’s as business savvy as he keeps telling us. I mean, there are a bunch of decisions that he’s made that don’t add up to me. Like the laying off of 50% of the Twitter work force. There is a reason layoffs don’t happen the way Elon is doing it. He’s spending a dollar to save a dime, which generally is the sign that the decision was emotional and not logical.

    Deep pockets do not mean you are a genius at business. Deep pockets mean you can afford to make many, many, MANY mistakes until you figure out the right thing to do.

    Also, there is the whole content curation, and what is and is not allowed in the platform. He says he’s all for free speech, unless you are planning on mocking him, then that speech isn’t allowed. But he’s cool with you mocking, and hate-speeching other people. Got that. Just not him. Mocking Elon is wrong. Remember: You are free to do what Elon tells you.

    You are free to do what Elon tells you!

    YOU ARE FREE TO DO WHAT ELON TELLS YOU!!!

    (Full disclosure; I borrowed that line. It’s based off a Bill Hicks joke.)

    In the end, I think he just wants the attention, and he’s getting it. This is what, like the third time I have written about this, because on some level, this whole situation just gets in my craw. Part of it is that I don’t trust uber-wealthy people. The other side is that I have a hard time not looking at the train wreck happening right before me. But at the end of the day, 3,700 people are losing their jobs for no fault of their own. That’s 3,700 families being upended, having their livelihoods, and futures jeopardized, for what? So, some rich guy can be the global center of attention.

    Elon has been showing us who he is for a very long time, and only now some of us are seeing the morally bankrupt fraud he is.

    (Hey, thanks for coming all the way down here. As long as I have you, could I ask a favor of you? We know how this works, so if you could, please, give a like, a comment, a share, or even follow this blog. This is how the revolution gets televised.)

  • ODDS and ENDS: Touching Toes, Vince Guaraldi’s Evolution, Halloween Candy, and Vote

    (There’s no money in it, kid.)

    May daughter can touch her toes. This is a huge point of pride for her, and one she likes to show off often. I think their gym teacher had them do it at school the other day. My wife, also, can touch her toes, and she, accordingly, is very proud of this fact. I, on the other hand, cannot touch my toes. I am equally proud of this fact. I’m like an inch away from touching them, and if I put forth a little more effort, I am sure I could snap my knees in half and do it. Furthermore, I don’t think I have ever been able to touch my toes. I am sure that someone out there might think of that as a shortcoming, or even a failure, but I would like to point out that my lack of toe touching has not held me back in life. I have been a very productive member of society, achieved many thing in my life that I am very proud of, all while overcoming my lack of phalanges connection. I shall continue to preserver.

    Do you know who Vince Guaraldi is? He’s the jazz piano player who wrote all of the Peanuts/Charlie Brown music. A long time ago, I bought his first jazz album on CD: Vince Guaraldi Trio. I think the reason I bought was that I wanted to know what his non-Peanuts music sounded like. This was like twenty years ago. Then this week, a thought came in my head – totally random – that I should listen to Guaraldi’s discography in order, and hear how his sound evolved from that first album. It is an interesting development, from a very traditional jazz sound, to becoming something that has a pop angle to it by the end. Sadly, Vince died in his late forties by a sudden heart attack, so it feels like his career was cut short only half way through.

    I’m not eating my kid’s Halloween candy this year. Personal vow, there really isn’t a story there. I just don’t want to feel like a thief around her.

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    (What’s that you say? You love this blog but wish you could do more? You are in Luck! Just hit that Like, Share, Comment button, and if you are feeling super supportive, please follow this blog! A lonely writer in New York City, will be greatly appreciative!)