Category: Writing

  • A Night of Theatre and Being Out

    Last night, I went to see my friends in a puppet show. It was titled SORRY ABOUT THE WEATHER and was performed at HERE, as part of their PUPPETOPIA puppet fest. I loved the show, but my view might be a little biased. Sure, it was a puppet show, I love puppet shows, and it was created and performed by my friends. The subject of the piece is about a woman with dementia, and is an “interpretation of what is in her weather mind.” It’s also about losing a loved one to a disease, which struck a deep chord with me. I found myself reliving the feelings I had during that week in hospice, slowly watching my mother slip away in a haze of painkillers, only to become a husk of a vital person that she was. It made me admit again that there are issues of her passing that I still need to uncover and unpack.

    After the show, I got to see my friends and talk to them briefly. The last time I saw them was back in September 2018 when we did a puppet show together, and I missed being in their presence. It was a nice chance to have a hug, and say it was nice to see you, and to have contact again with people. For such a bittersweet melancholy show, it was a nice that I got to visit with them, and have an honest fulfilling smile as I made my way out of the theatre.

    And this was an evening for me. The wife and the kid were having a mother/daughter night, so dad could go out, and have a break. So, I walked up Hudson Street with this crazy idea that I would go to The White Horse Tavern, as it was a writer’s hang out, and good ol’ Jack Kerouac got kicked out of the joint so often that it was a joke to tell him to go home. But what I thought would be a low-key Wednesday night turned out to be a very happening night in the West Village. All the restaurants were full, as were the bars, and there was no room at the tavern for me.

    But, it didn’t bother me, as I was happy to be out in the City again. Sure, I was in a rich, swanky part of the City, and not exactly my crowd, yet there were people out and walking and talking and it was good to see, or I guess, remind myself of what I liked about the City. It was a pleasant not too warm Spring evening, with conversations floating around and bumping into each other, not unlike the people standing and waiting to get a table or seat at the joint they were in front of.

    What I did was make my way back to the subway, and headed for Harlem. I knew that the chance of me getting seat at one of my local bars was better. And I was right. I was able to camp at a corner seat, so I could watch the Mav’s get crushed by Golden State, and I could also hear a guy complain about his job to the bartender. I had my beer and a bourbon neat, and the windows were open in the place, so the sounds of the City could come in. A nice reminder why I like living in this place.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Read the Guidelines!

    I don’t think it’s a secret that I am trying to get one of my stories published in a lit magazine. I don’t know if this is the right way to start a career writing fiction, or if there is a better way to go about it, or if there is no right way and you just got to figure it out. (I think it’s the last option.) Either way, I write and then I send the stories out to magazines, then wait to see what sticks to the wall.

    Almost every magazine says two things; please read an issue of their magazine before you submit, and please follow the submission guidelines. I have started reading some of these magazines, and I have enjoyed discovering new writers and new ideas on how to tell a story. As for following the guidelines… yeah, I still suck at that.

    In fact, I was rejected yesterday for that exact reason, even though the form letter that was sent to me never mentioned that I had failed to follow their guidelines. I thought that it was very polite of them not to mention my complete inability to follow the most basic rule they set forth. I know I was rejected for not following the guidelines because the magazine stated that it could take three months for them to respond, and they rejected me in three days. I went back to read the submission post, and that’s when I reread the rules, and realized that I didn’t follow them. Oops…

    And I know what happened. I found this magazine, and got impatient, and wanted to send out right away as it was on my mind right now!

    I feel a little silly. I should have known better. I should have slowed down, taken my time.

    Remember people, read the guidelines.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Writing in Public; A Personal History

    My current office is a public library in Harlem. I come in the afternoon, and this is where I do some of my writing. I can get some work done in the morning, and usually that is when I blog. After lunch, I head out to the library to work on everything else. This situation works well, especially for my wife who works from home. When I head out, that gives her the afternoon alone in the apartment so she can focus and get her work done, as well.

    I like my local library. It’s not too big, and is never too crowed either. I can find a space to work, listen to my music, and outside of one guy who clearly is some sort of remote IT specialist which requires him to speak on his phone to clients, it’s rather quite here. (Though I did witness two old guys almost get into an old man fight over who could sit at what table.) There is something nice about being surrounded by books.

    I am not the brilliant one who came up with this idea of using the library. It was my wife who suggested that I use the library to work. And she got the idea from our good friend who uses her local library as the place where she writes. I was hesitant at first to do it, but I now admit that was a mistake. I have been rather productive, at least word count wise.

    Writing in public is something that I have tried doing, on and off, since high school. Back then, there was a local all-night coffee shop/diner that I could camp at. After high school and in college, I would camp at a local IHOP, and that ended up becoming a hang out with all my friends. Then I turned twenty-one, and started hanging out in bars, which I didn’t write in, as that’s not why you go to a bar.

    Then I moved to NYC, and made friends, and one of them owned a bar in Manhattan which I would visit. Trying an effort to be a supportive friend, I would always suggest his bar to other friends as a good place to meet up for a drink. On occasions that I would get to the bar early, and would be waiting on my friends to arrive, I would pull out my journal, and write at the bar to kill time.

    I actually felt very comfortable doing it, and soon I started just going to that bar to write in my journal alone. The bar was shaped like an “L” and I would sit at the short part next to the wall, so I could watch the goings on of the long part bar. The staff got to know me, I am sure because I was friends with the owner, and we would converse, but then they would give me some space to work.

    Sadly, the pandemic closed down his bar, and I really haven’t been able to find a good replacement.

  • My Social Media and Blog Footprint

    I suck at social media. Part of it is that I keep thinking no one cares what I do or like, let alone what I am currently eating. Yet, I feel the need to get better at it. As if it were an art form which needs to be mastered. Though, I feel one cannot master it, but can only be innovative with it.

    I know that everything on social media is some form of a lie, but the same could be said for marketing, and I do believe that is what social media really is. People who are good at social media are very good at marketing themselves.

    I am not good at marketing myself. I want you to pay attention to me, but I don’t want to do anything to make you pay attention to me.

    I am a conundrum to myself.

    I feel self-conscious when I ask people to pay attention to me. This might be why I enjoy acting, and puppetry so much when it comes to theatre. I could either hide myself in a character, or literally, hide behind a puppet and never be seen. I could be the center of attention, and no one would get to know me.

    But I have a public blog. A blog that has increased its views by 50% in the past two months. So, that means there are more of you coming by to look at me. (Well, the stats are saying you are here to read the short story reviews, but a few of you venture to the other posts. In that sense, greetings!) Still, I feel very uncomfortable about mentioning this blog to the people in my daily life.

    I have been thinking about that lately; why aren’t I more aggressive in sharing this?

    Part of it is that I am still not sure if I believe that I am a professional, a hobbyist, or if I am a hobbyist advancing towards professionalism? And if I don’t believe that what I am creating has value, then how can I ask anyone else to believe it is of value?

    Maybe it’s not self-consciousness, but a mere lack of self-confidence?

    But I do like it. I like writing a blog every day. I thought about cutting back to just three days a week, but it felt weird not to post daily.

    Hence, why I am here today.

    Please, feel free to subscribe and share with your friends.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Museum of Natural History, Alice Walker’s Journals, Dallas Mavericks, and Jazz Samba

    (Stay Fresh, Cheese Bags!)

    It’s Earth Day! AND the kid is on Spring Break! So, we’re going to the Museum of Natural History today! This is low hanging fruit when it comes to doing something with the kid that she will enjoy for several hours. For most of my friends with kids, the zoo is their “go-to” place to occupy some time, but my kid never has really enjoyed going to a zoo. Now, a petting zoo, or looking at baby animals, she will go crazy over that. But your normal, run of the mill zoo; nope, my daughter ain’t having it. What she wants is a display case with rocks in it. Maybe a diorama from the 1920’s. Give us a squid and a whale!

    Yesterday, I read a piece in The New Yorker about a book of Alice Walker’s journals. I was interested because I think Walker is a great writer who I look up to, and being that I journal, I am curious what her journals are like. Two things I took away from the article are that Walker at one point thought she should smoke “less weed,” and her preoccupation with money. I admit that I haven’t read this book and am only going off what was in the article, but these two points, weed and money, humanized Alice Walker for me, and made me respect her more. The weed statement means that she feels like she should be getting high less, and doing other things, and I infer that means writing. Even someone like Alice Walker thinks she should be working harder. And there is money. It’s not surprising that Walker was thinking about money issues before she was “ALICE WALKER” and was just another writer trying to make it. Yet, to see it in her journals just proves that finances were taking up a large part of her thought process, and needed to be expressed. Yes, she was trying out new ideas that would become great stories, but she was also trying to figure out how to pay rent and eat.

    I have been enjoying watching the Dallas Mavericks vs the Utah Jazz in the NBA Playoffs. Especially, I have enjoyed the Dallas bench playing some clutch basketball.

    Today’s album that I am listening to is “Jazz Samba” by Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd.