My Lips Are Sealed

"You want to sell me what?
How did you get this number?"

My life has been extremely blog-worthy of late, and yet, I’ve shared none of it due to a new character in my life. Recent encounters with this character have quickly and succinctly proved that he might need to borrow some of my own adventures (the better ones too) for his own. Sadly, that means I can’t share with you what the telemarketer tried to sell me this week.

You’d laugh. But if I told you now, when one of my characters is put in a similar situation in a future book, you’ll think I’ve run out of ideas.

But see, that’s what writers do. They become so consumed with an idea that they must write about it.

In the forward to “East of Eden,” (both the book and the forward I highly recommend!) I discovered that Steinbeck was inspired by his own divorce, his own relationships with his children, etc.

Now of course, a conversation with a telemarketer isn’t as grand as the themes in “East of Eden,” but it’s my story. And when the details flow in unison with ideas, I'll have created something more than a string of words.

Reticent -- reluctant to communicate, reserved

Recalcitrant -- disobedient, unruly

Tacit -- silence, especially a portion of music

Vicarious -- by means of substitution for another

Debacle

Get your FREE copy on
the iBookstore!

Debacle - when you realize just moments after you order 250 business cards that there was a typo; my Thursday last week.

One of my book distributors tipped me off to an interesting statistic not too long ago. He told me that indie book authors who offer at least one free title along side their paid titles see an increase in sales.

I thought, great, my mom has been telling me for such a long time to release this Christmas story, this will be easy. Then, I thought, wait, how will I let people know that I have a free book. About ten people read this blog, and they already know, so...I decided to order business cards.

I designed the front side of the card to have a picture of the book and a little blurb about it and in BIG PRINT it said “Get your FREE copy.” On the backside, I put a QR code to take my unsuspecting--I mean, prospective--reader instantly to the iBookstore to claim a copy.

I worked really hard on the design, making the background of the card look frosty to compliment the cover of the book. It looked pretty cool.

When it came time to order the cards online, I made sure to triple-check my work for typos. I didn’t see any so I clicked the box which said, “I verify that everything is spelled correctly and that after I place my order it cannot be changed.” No biggie, I thought. I’m a good speller.

And since I did such an amazing job on the design, I upgraded to glossy paper, because I wanted to look as professional as Stephen King (if Mr. King wrote Christmas stories...for free).

Not five seconds after I placed my order, I got word from a friend that the QR code I made was invalid. Instead of taking a prospective reader to the iBookstore they simply would have gotten an error message.

So that was fifty bucks down the drain.

I took a deep breath and walked away from my computer.

I reasoned I could still use the front of the cards and pass off the back like it wasn’t my fault or that it was a joke or maybe that I was technologically inept. But I would still feel foolish. If I had an agent or a manager they wouldn’t let this happen. They would order another batch and make sure they worked. I bet Stephen King never ordered business cards with a bad QR code.

So, after taking the night to relax and forget about my debacle, I generated another (working!) code, placed another order, very aware that I could not change one iota after I hit “print.”

During my debacle, I was reminded of my childhood favorite, Mr. Rodgers. I have several books about him on my shelves because of how highly I regard him. Mr. Rodgers never sought to be famous, he sought to make a great television program for kids. What made him famous was the fact that no one else was doing what he was doing and he was doing it with brio.

I don’t know if I should tell you this or not, but during my time of trial this week, I wondered if I was making these cards solely in order to become famous, or if I was making them because I wanted people to experience the catharsis I experienced when I wrote. I came to the conclusion that I won’t famous anytime soon, if ever, nor am I seeking fame. What I’m putting into these cards, I won’t see as a monetary return, I know that. But I will see an influence on my readers. And that’s what I’m striving for.

I’ve heard from several readers already, moved to tears by “Luminary.”

And if these business cards help me reach one more reader who needs my words, I’d gladly go through two debacles for them. 

Luminary

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on the iBookstore

Call me crazy, but as soon as the Fourth of July gets swept out of the streets, I start playing Christmas music. It's never too early.

And today, less than two months before the big day, I celebrate the release of my newest title, "Luminary," a Christmas short story. You can find it for FREE on the iBookstore.

I wrote the story two years ago as a Christmas gift for my mom. She's been encouraging me ever since to give it to you, my readers, so, here it is.

In addition to listening to album after album, I read Christmas story after story. I think I've seen every take on Christmas, ever cliche and trite aphorism out there. So often, the protagonist in a Christmas story must learn to give, or to forgive. When I began my own story, I wanted our protagonist to learn to be forgiven.

Enjoy it! Pass it on to a friend. And Merry Christmas, from me to you.

Transmogrification

What do a purple sweatshirt, a scissors, googly eyes and a couple yards of polka dot fabric have in common? My Halloween costume!

Transmogrification -- the altering of appearance into something extremely scary or funny; the donning of a Halloween costume.

Thanks to Squashland Produce
for these amazing pumpkins!

This is the very first year that I have made a Halloween costume. I should qualify that one year in college I did dress up by attaching our dorm clock to a string of beads and stealing a crown from the theatre department closet (I went as Flava Flav), but this is my very first costume involving sewing. And I’m very thankful to my Mom for helping me.

Growing up, we were forbidden from celebrating Halloween as it was a day to celebrate the Devil and as good Lutherans, such as thing would surely lead to apostasy. Instead, my parents gave us bags of “Reformation Candy,” so that we didn’t feel left out.

I never felt left out. I felt superior to the other Christian children running around like heathens, dabbling in the occult. I remember one girl in jr. high who was particularly appalled that I had never gone trick-or-treating and planned on forbidding my children from doing the same. I was equally appalled that a good Lutheran girl would think so nonchalantly of a day dedicated to witches and demons.

Since then, my view of Halloween has changed. The meaning of any day can change over time just as it can through how it is celebrated. Just as Christmas began as a pagan festival of winter, just as Cinco de Mayo today has little to do with the battle of Puebla, just as St. Patrick’s day has more to do with green beer than to do with driving snakes from Ireland, Halloween has changed from its origins.

Some might say that Halloween is worse today than long ago, because bad people use the day to do bad things like slip razor blades into apples, and poison into candy bars. Others say that Halloween is better because it promotes community togetherness: neighbors get together and meet each other over the premise of children seeking candy.

I’m in neither camp. A day is a day. It can be used for good or ill. For me, it is a time of year when the trees lose their beautiful façade and reveal a twisted nature beneath while mankind dons twisted masks to hide souls barer than the branches.

And the next day, All Saints Day, serves to remind me that there is nothing to fear.

Want to see my costume? I’ll be posting pics of my transmogrification on twitter later in the week!

Mortification

Mortification -- the feeling that comes from unknowingly wearing new clothes in public with the tags still on them.

No wombat arms!

I recently bought some new dress shirts. I'd been avoiding it for one because I don't particularly enjoy shopping and two, because I hate how dress shirts fit me. Most often they're cut for guys with bigger arms and chests than I've got. I look like a wombat in a necktie. 

My mom had been secretly scouting stores and found a brand which made a "super-slim" fit. Amazingly, I looked human in them. 

Last weekend, I debuted my new look at church. I walked down the aisle with just a touch of swagger and sat in my usual pew about three from the front. It was one of those moments, where you feel like everyone is looking at you, and at first you think, "it's 'cuz I look good." And then you think, "or is there something on my face?" And then you think, "you're just being paranoid." And then catch the whole north side of church looking at you across the aisle and you think, "there must be something on my face." And you start to feel really guilty, because new clothes are supposed to make you feel good, except you're not supposed to be thinking about your appearance in church. 

And then you reach your hand up to scratch your neck and you feel a sticker on your collar, and all your blood rushes into your cheeks because everyone behind you now knows what size you wear. Despite your mortification, you peel it off as discretely as you can and slip it into your pocket and remain in your pew as if nothing has happened. You tell yourself that no one noticed. But then again, why else was everyone looking at you?

This isn't the first time I've tagged it in public. Back in high school, where mortification in amplified by hormones and peer pressure, I wore pants with the size sticker on them to a music competition. 

Imagine me carrying around with my euphonium in new corduroys with my waist size plastered down the leg in large numbers. And no one told me. 

You'd think it's common decency to tell a fellow human being they look ridiculous. 

A few months ago, I was in line at a coffee shop and the woman ahead of me was wearing her cardigan inside-out. I really wanted to tell her, but she was on her phone. So I let her get her coffee and walk out the door wearing an inside-out sweater. Am I a horrible person for not telling her, or would it have cause her more embarrassment to point out her faux pas in the middle of a busy coffee shop? 

Do we really want strangers to mind their own business? Probably yes. But the rule might be flexible when someone's tag is showing.

Here's to You, Ray!

photo by Alan Light, 1975.

I just can't say enough good things about Ray Bradbury. You cannot call yourself American without having read, "Farenheit 451," his genius novel about censorship. Most of us were required to read it in high school and for good reason. It's a classic!

But I knew him earlier. Ever since he first scandalized me in junior high with a one-sentence chapter in "Something Wicked This Way Comes," I've been hooked. He seems to slough off conventions in order to tell the story the way it needs to be told while evoking vivid sights and smells and provoking new ideas.

Of all his works, "Dandelion Wine," is my favorite. It is an ode to boyhood and summer. And it's sequel, "Farewell Summer," is pretty great too. He can instantly transport me to Greentown, Illinois on my 9th birthday, though I've never been there, nor have I ever tasted vanilla-lime ice, nor been chased home by a killer at midnight.

If you prefer his science fiction, may I recommend "The Martian Chronicles," a novel written like a series of short stories telling loosely the history of our colonization of Mars. It contains the genius "The House of Usher II," an allusion to Poe, but about Martians of course.

My most recent Bradbury read, "Now and Forever," contains two novellas, "Somewhere a Band is Playing," and "Leviathan '99."

"Somewhere" treats you to the best of his 'nostalgia' writing in which he invites you to see and smell the things he holds most dear in real life, like buckets of cream cooling in the shadows, or the dripping refrigerator, or the cat sitting on your chest while you sleep, breathing your air.

I cannot attest to the genius of "Leviathan" because I have not read "Moby Dick" nor even seen the movie which uses the screenplay penned by Bradbury. But if you are a Melville fan, you might find this story of a mad space captain chasing the tail of a white comet fascinating. One of Bradbury's characters mentions reading every other chapter of "Moby Dick" while in Mystic Seaport. I wonder, I just wonder if Ray ever did that.

Your words for the week, gleaned from "Now and Forever:"

natty - neat or smart in appearance or dress.

panoply - complete or full display, as in dress, armor, show of military power, etc.

gantry - a frame of scaffolding used to support an upright rocket before launch.

jerkwater - insignificant, out of the way.

My Antonia

Having grown up in Nebraska, I feel ashamed that I made it through high school without having read any of Willa Cather's writing. I took my re-education into my own hands and downloaded My Antonia to my kindle. Though it wasn't my favorite book ever, I do appreciate how clearly she showed me life for the early settlers of Nebraska and life in Red Cloud. 

I read in one of the comments on Amazon, that Cather in explaining the book to a friend, plunked a vase or something onto the table and explained that it represented her heroine, and her goal was to show her from all angles. Alas, my (little) scholarly research won't substantiate the story, but if that was her intention, then she accomplished it. Antonia (or Tony) is not the main character, but we see her through the eyes of the narrator throughout the course of their lives. 

The writing in My Antonia is rich and dense. Cather really knows how to turn prose into near poetry. And she creates lasting images, like an abandoned plow on the horizon magnified at sunset. Here are a few words I gleaned from the novel:

gelding - a castrated horse.

grizzled - hair streaked with gray. 

lassitude - fatigue or languor.

disapprobation - disapproval on moral grounds.

freshet - the overflow of a stream due to melting snows.