Tag: Writing

  • 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.

  • I Make Schedules Only to Break Them

    I had made a schedule for today, and I 100% did not follow it.

    Last week was Spring Break with the kid, and all the plans got thrown out the window. For one, our car got hit while parked on the street, so it’s been in the shop since then. The loss of the vehicle killed all of our plans of getting out of the City. I had this idea that me and the kid would go disc golfing up around Beacon, and then the next day, head to a beach on Long Island. Sounds like fun and we were looking forward to it. I replaced that with going to The Strand one day, and the Museum of Natural History the next. The kid seemed fine with it.

    Anyway, with all of my time last week being spent with the kid, I knew I wasn’t going to get any work done, not that I minded. So, the start of this week, I wanted to hit the ground running. Like I said, I created a schedule for today to make sure I would be able to get everything I wanted to get done, done.

    And the day started out fine. We all got up on time, and made it to school early. I went to the gym to work out, and really got into my run. Came home from the gym, and it just went downhill. Not that it matters, honestly. I’m writing the blog in the afternoon instead of the morning. I have yet to journal, but that will be next, and I know that I won’t get to fiction today.

    BUT! I did get the laundry done, balanced the check book, did some home finance projections for the wife, took down the Easter decorations, made lunch and shopped for dinner. See, I got some shit done.

    On to the next thing

  • Not Feeling It (Unedited)

    I have been looking at this computer for an hour now, and I really can’t get anything to work.

    I thought about writing about how the Baseball season starts today, but I’m just not excited about it. In fact, there are a bunch of articles out today talking about how over blown the payrolls are for the top teams, and the whole league is skewed to the big market rich clubs. There really isn’t anything I can add to that conversation other than to say people have been making that complaint since I was a kid, so not much has really changed in thirty years.

    And it is a cold rainy day, which might be adding to my inability to focus, let alone produce something. I do set my own deadline to get something about around 11am, but I don’t always make it. It’s a guideline, not rally a hard rule. The point being to get something up to at least accomplish one thing each day. Check the box, you know, so I can say I did something.

    What I really would like to do is go back to bed. I am on my third cup of coffee, and I could doze off right now if I stopped moving and closed my eyes. That sounds nice.

    But no, I have a lunch to make for my wife, and I promised myself that I would outline a new story today. Then there is some reading to catch up on, the kid to gather from school, and a dinner to make. Somewhere in there I will play UNO with the kid, as she has become quite good at it, and I want to encourage her healthy competitive side.

    Which is to say, I’m not feeling it today.

    (I even did the stupid “button” thing that lazy essay writers do. I might even throw in some puns, which smart people claim makes you sound smart, but we all know makes you sound dumb.)

    Anyway, not feeling it…

  • Rejection

    Tuesday morning is when I go grocery shopping for my family. This chore takes me out of Harlem and to the 93rd Street Trader Joe’s, which means if I do this right, it will take me an hour to do. I listen to music, and read on the subway. It’s personal time for me, so I try to keep it to enjoying things that make me feel better.

    I read on the subway trip down, and had a nice stroll through the UWS to get to the store. Shopping was fine, not too many people. When I got to checking out, I was going to use my phone to tap and pay, when I saw on my screen that I had got an email from a magazine I had submitted a story to.

    Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened the email, knowing that I already knew what the response was going to be, but I still wanted to see it. They were rejecting my story. Like I said, I had a feeling a knew what the response would be. But, clearly I must have looked disappointed, as the woman ringing me up asked, “You okay?”

    I guess I did get my hopes up.

    Even though I told myself not to. Funny how even though I prepare myself for this, I still set myself up. Oh well. I have to come to love every step of the process, even the ugly soul crushing parts.

    I was a theatre major in college, and I had a professor who would say that to us, that you had to enjoy all the steps in the process of becoming a professional, which, according to him, is the only way you will be able to survive the ups and downs of a career in the arts.

    I always thought that advice was bullshit. Who the hell likes being rejected?

    No one likes being rejected.

    But I can see his point. To get accepted, you got to put yourself out there. The more you can enjoy getting out there, the less the rejection stings.

    Well, four down, one more to go, and that will complete my first round of submissions. Then I have to go find another set of magazines to submit to.

    Process keeps on going.