Year Six - Week 22 - October 29, 2003
When it comes to writing, I go with what I know, but I never let the facts get in the way of the story. Sometimes this makes my life awkward because friends and family can’t separate me from my characters. When they read a story, they assume that everything in it is true. This can be embarrassing, but I can’t let it worry me, otherwise, there will be no life in the writing.
It's this week's topic because a few people read my first post-divorce story called “First Date.” All of the readers thought I was Bill, the protagonist. Of course I feel the same angst about returning to the dating game as Bill did. However, what happened to him is not what happened to me -- but try telling that to anyone.
Here’s the good news. If my readers think the story is true, then I’ve done my job as a writer. It is the honesty behind what Bill feels as a recent divorcee that comprises the guts of “First Date.” Whether Bill goes out with a super model or is afraid to call a girl does not have to happen to me for the story to work. I’ll make up whatever I need to improve it, but I’ll never tamper with the emotional truth.
A lot of beginning writers make the mistake of thinking the story must adhere to the facts. This is especially true with stories tied to family members or close friends. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that so-called ‘true’ story gets bogged down by the facts.
Folks, it's not called fiction for nothing. And for those that simply must keep to the facts, well, God invented non-fiction for you guys.
When it comes to blogging, my position on the subject of ‘truth’ is not so cut and dry. A few folks contacted me last week, worried that I was going off the deep end. Yes, I’ve had a rough few months, but everything at Old Road is fine. They’ll be no Elliot Smith action here.
The secret is to keep busy. I made good progress on the novel, kicked around lots of new song ideas, and did a photo shoot down in NYC (see my digital shot in the “What’s New’ page of this website).
Next week will be even better…
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
Rock Bottom
Year Six - Week 21 – October 21, 2003
I may have hit rock bottom last week. It’s hard to tell because there’s no signpost or map to indicate the point where one cannot fall further. I certainly hit something, but instead of shattering into pieces I bounced, and now I’m writing again. I started a new short story and made good progress on the novel’s final edits. I also went into the studio to tighten four tracks of my upcoming CD.
It’s difficult to explain how or why this was the week the floodgate finally broke. And to be honest, attempting to figure it out might send me right back into the funk, so there will be no navel gazing. The same probably can’t be said for Red Sox and Cubs fans. What a week of misery they had.
I’m a die-hard Philadelphia supporter – Phillies, Eagles, Sixers & Flyers -- I’ve followed them all for thirty years, so I can empathize with perennial losers. The Cubs and Red Sox are more noteworthy, but Philadelphia in the context of the combined result of the four major sports is the biggest loser of them all. Our last championship dates back to the 1983 76ers. Hey Boston, you had the ’01 Patriots and wasn’t there a streak of championships in the 90’s for the Windy City with a guy named Jordan? And how about those ’85 Bears?
You want to just talk baseball? The Phillies did win in 1980 and also made a World Series trip in ‘83 and ‘93, but we’ve only had one championship in a hundred years – no one has a worse percentage. At least Boston won several World Series before they got rid of Ruth.
A Red Sox columnist wrote last week that if the team were a girl, he’d have left her long ago, but you can’t leave your team, it’s in the blood, a lifetime commitment. Some do hop on other bandwagons, but it isn’t nearly as satisfying as waiting for the day your childhood team brings home the bacon. Red Sox and Cubs fans, don’t lose heart, you will eventually have that day in the sun, and you’ll realize that all the losing makes your victory that much sweeter. Take solace in the fact Yankee fans will never experience that (okay, it’s a stretch).
There is something to be said about loyalty and it resonates well beyond baseball, and perhaps that’s how I got back into the swing this week. When things go bad, it’s easy to just walk away. It takes character and fortitude to tough it out -- maybe you’ve also got to be a bit crazy. Regardless, I never lost faith in my writing ability and this week it has paid off.
I may have hit rock bottom last week. It’s hard to tell because there’s no signpost or map to indicate the point where one cannot fall further. I certainly hit something, but instead of shattering into pieces I bounced, and now I’m writing again. I started a new short story and made good progress on the novel’s final edits. I also went into the studio to tighten four tracks of my upcoming CD.
It’s difficult to explain how or why this was the week the floodgate finally broke. And to be honest, attempting to figure it out might send me right back into the funk, so there will be no navel gazing. The same probably can’t be said for Red Sox and Cubs fans. What a week of misery they had.
I’m a die-hard Philadelphia supporter – Phillies, Eagles, Sixers & Flyers -- I’ve followed them all for thirty years, so I can empathize with perennial losers. The Cubs and Red Sox are more noteworthy, but Philadelphia in the context of the combined result of the four major sports is the biggest loser of them all. Our last championship dates back to the 1983 76ers. Hey Boston, you had the ’01 Patriots and wasn’t there a streak of championships in the 90’s for the Windy City with a guy named Jordan? And how about those ’85 Bears?
You want to just talk baseball? The Phillies did win in 1980 and also made a World Series trip in ‘83 and ‘93, but we’ve only had one championship in a hundred years – no one has a worse percentage. At least Boston won several World Series before they got rid of Ruth.
A Red Sox columnist wrote last week that if the team were a girl, he’d have left her long ago, but you can’t leave your team, it’s in the blood, a lifetime commitment. Some do hop on other bandwagons, but it isn’t nearly as satisfying as waiting for the day your childhood team brings home the bacon. Red Sox and Cubs fans, don’t lose heart, you will eventually have that day in the sun, and you’ll realize that all the losing makes your victory that much sweeter. Take solace in the fact Yankee fans will never experience that (okay, it’s a stretch).
There is something to be said about loyalty and it resonates well beyond baseball, and perhaps that’s how I got back into the swing this week. When things go bad, it’s easy to just walk away. It takes character and fortitude to tough it out -- maybe you’ve also got to be a bit crazy. Regardless, I never lost faith in my writing ability and this week it has paid off.
Monday, October 13, 2003
a thousand miles
Year Six - Week 20 – October 13, 2003
A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, and so shall my return to writing with a single word. It sounds easy enough, but it isn’t. My mind is pea soup and my fingers are numb. I sit at the computer and stare at a blank screen. Then I realize the cats are hungry, the dishwasher must be unloaded, and the bed sheets need changing. Even phone calls are welcome. Yesterday I spoke to a credit card sales person for five minutes before realizing what I was doing.
When you’ve got a block, they say just write about having nothing to say. Well, who the hell are ‘they’ anyway? I have nothing to say to them, that’s for sure, and even if I did, I couldn’t focus long enough to write it. What good could come from writing about not being able to write?
I can't write. I can't write. I can't write.
How do ‘they’ know you should write about not writing when you can’t write?
Okay, I did manage to get out a weekly journal posting, but it was painful. My novel needs tweaking and several short stories require repair, but I can’t face doing the work. Today I went to the movies. Tonight I’ll watch the baseball playoffs, and of course I’ll feed the cats and unload the dishwasher.
Last week in a bold attempt to avoid doing any writing, I upgraded my Pro Tools Recording Software to the latest Mac operating system called Jaguar. Five days after I bought the package, Apple announced the upcoming release of Panther, Mac’s next version. It arrives in stores at the end of the month.
You can’t win with software, but I put off doing the OS X conversion for over a year and figured now that I was just sitting around moping, I might as well get it done. I’ll skip Panther (unless I’m entitled to a free upgrade) and wait for the next improvement – perhaps it will be called Leopard, or White Tiger in honor of the Las Vegas mauling.
Digressions and tangents keep me from getting any writing done, but it does help me to forget about the divorce. Don’t get the wrong impression, it’s not all fun and games here. I did go to Staples and buy a package of pocket sized notebooks in the event an idea hit. Now I have no excuses. I placed those pads strategically throughout the house. I also put one in the car, the gym bag, several jacket pockets, two briefcases and a backpack. I also a bought case of golf pencils and stuck one inside the wire coil of each pad. Of course the first decent idea I got came while I was taking a shower. Do they make water proof notepads?
Fortunately, since then, ideas have struck at other times and I now have a stack of paper on the desk filled with my scribble. At some point I’ll make sense out of them, but for the moment, it’s just about getting through the day one word at a time.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, and so shall my return to writing with a single word. It sounds easy enough, but it isn’t. My mind is pea soup and my fingers are numb. I sit at the computer and stare at a blank screen. Then I realize the cats are hungry, the dishwasher must be unloaded, and the bed sheets need changing. Even phone calls are welcome. Yesterday I spoke to a credit card sales person for five minutes before realizing what I was doing.
When you’ve got a block, they say just write about having nothing to say. Well, who the hell are ‘they’ anyway? I have nothing to say to them, that’s for sure, and even if I did, I couldn’t focus long enough to write it. What good could come from writing about not being able to write?
I can't write. I can't write. I can't write.
How do ‘they’ know you should write about not writing when you can’t write?
Okay, I did manage to get out a weekly journal posting, but it was painful. My novel needs tweaking and several short stories require repair, but I can’t face doing the work. Today I went to the movies. Tonight I’ll watch the baseball playoffs, and of course I’ll feed the cats and unload the dishwasher.
Last week in a bold attempt to avoid doing any writing, I upgraded my Pro Tools Recording Software to the latest Mac operating system called Jaguar. Five days after I bought the package, Apple announced the upcoming release of Panther, Mac’s next version. It arrives in stores at the end of the month.
You can’t win with software, but I put off doing the OS X conversion for over a year and figured now that I was just sitting around moping, I might as well get it done. I’ll skip Panther (unless I’m entitled to a free upgrade) and wait for the next improvement – perhaps it will be called Leopard, or White Tiger in honor of the Las Vegas mauling.
Digressions and tangents keep me from getting any writing done, but it does help me to forget about the divorce. Don’t get the wrong impression, it’s not all fun and games here. I did go to Staples and buy a package of pocket sized notebooks in the event an idea hit. Now I have no excuses. I placed those pads strategically throughout the house. I also put one in the car, the gym bag, several jacket pockets, two briefcases and a backpack. I also a bought case of golf pencils and stuck one inside the wire coil of each pad. Of course the first decent idea I got came while I was taking a shower. Do they make water proof notepads?
Fortunately, since then, ideas have struck at other times and I now have a stack of paper on the desk filled with my scribble. At some point I’ll make sense out of them, but for the moment, it’s just about getting through the day one word at a time.
Monday, October 6, 2003
Bruce!
I took this photo of Bruce and Southside Johnny at the Meadowlands in 1993.
Year Six - Week 19 – October 6, 2003
I attended the first of the three Bruce Springsteen shows at Shea last week. Not many concerts take place there, so it was fitting to end the tour where the Beatles once held court. I wrote about Bruce here in July after seeing a Giant’s Stadium performance in the pouring rain, so you know what he means to me; but with all the emptiness at the house now, nothing could top going to see the Boss.
The show began with audio clips of George Bush speaking about weapons of mass destruction, war and peace, responsibility. The first song was ‘Souls of the Departed;’ it's about war and urban violence. It was a powerful beginning to what was an evening of political statements.
My divorce seems insignificant in light of the larger issues humanity faces and I was impressed at Springsteen’s effort to remind us. Of course you can turn on the TV and get bombarded with news, but the coverage is such that it feels more like another reality show. It’s so easy for Americans to forget, even with the specter of 9/11 hanging over us. With convenient access to twenty-four-hour diners, sunny beaches, and endless aisles of consumer goods, what’s really changed?
And yet, from the reaction of those sitting around me, not everyone was thrilled to receive Springsteen’s political agenda. This was surprising given the predisposition toward awareness of the human condition a Springsteen demographic should exhibit. But a stadium show attracts all kinds, and there were lots in the crowd that came only to hear the hits and raise their fists in the air when ‘Hungry Heart’ was played.
When the band started ‘Forty-one Shots,’ the yahoos ran to the beer line, some made phone calls, others turned around and yapped to their drunk buddies. Annoying is an understatement.
It’s hard to believe that only a few years ago this was a controversial song. The NYPD got so bent out of shape, some actually refused to provide security for Springsteen’s Madison Square Garden shows. The press also jumped on the Boss – how could he write such a song? But no one had bothered to read the lyric. When word got out on what the song was really about, a lot of people looked stupid. It’s not the first time Springsteen had been misinterpreted.
When the first chords of ‘Born in the U.S.A’ rang out Wednesday night, those beer swillers jumped out of their seats and danced. I am willing to bet most of them still don’t realize this is a protest song. Ronald Reagan certainly didn’t get it when he adopted it for his ’84 campaign. Although I am proud to be an American, too many times I am embarrassed by my fellow citizen’s ignorance.
Toward the end of the show Springsteen spoke about the homeless and the need for each of us to help. A guy with beer belly stood up and screamed – Born to Run. Several others echoed the sentiment. I looked at my friend and we just shook our heads.
Last week, the 2003 Nobel Prize for Literature was also announced. It went to South Africa’s J.M. Coetzee. He often writes about the personal consequences of apartheid. You’d expect the Nobel to recognize such an effort, but at least the coverage of the award will spread the word about Coetzee’s work.
It was yet another Monday morning for me, alone. I read in the paper that Israel attacked a target in Syria. It’s the first time in thirty years that’s happened. As most Americans head off to work this week, how many will even think about what our leaders are doing overseas? Springsteen was right to bring his political agenda to his audience, and as long as artists continue to have the courage to take on the world’s difficult issues, we still might have a chance.
As I sit in my home office now, trying to clear my mind of a personal tragedy, I realize there’s much more at stake than my broken heart. It’s time to get back to work.
Year Six - Week 19 – October 6, 2003
I attended the first of the three Bruce Springsteen shows at Shea last week. Not many concerts take place there, so it was fitting to end the tour where the Beatles once held court. I wrote about Bruce here in July after seeing a Giant’s Stadium performance in the pouring rain, so you know what he means to me; but with all the emptiness at the house now, nothing could top going to see the Boss.
The show began with audio clips of George Bush speaking about weapons of mass destruction, war and peace, responsibility. The first song was ‘Souls of the Departed;’ it's about war and urban violence. It was a powerful beginning to what was an evening of political statements.
My divorce seems insignificant in light of the larger issues humanity faces and I was impressed at Springsteen’s effort to remind us. Of course you can turn on the TV and get bombarded with news, but the coverage is such that it feels more like another reality show. It’s so easy for Americans to forget, even with the specter of 9/11 hanging over us. With convenient access to twenty-four-hour diners, sunny beaches, and endless aisles of consumer goods, what’s really changed?
And yet, from the reaction of those sitting around me, not everyone was thrilled to receive Springsteen’s political agenda. This was surprising given the predisposition toward awareness of the human condition a Springsteen demographic should exhibit. But a stadium show attracts all kinds, and there were lots in the crowd that came only to hear the hits and raise their fists in the air when ‘Hungry Heart’ was played.
When the band started ‘Forty-one Shots,’ the yahoos ran to the beer line, some made phone calls, others turned around and yapped to their drunk buddies. Annoying is an understatement.
It’s hard to believe that only a few years ago this was a controversial song. The NYPD got so bent out of shape, some actually refused to provide security for Springsteen’s Madison Square Garden shows. The press also jumped on the Boss – how could he write such a song? But no one had bothered to read the lyric. When word got out on what the song was really about, a lot of people looked stupid. It’s not the first time Springsteen had been misinterpreted.
When the first chords of ‘Born in the U.S.A’ rang out Wednesday night, those beer swillers jumped out of their seats and danced. I am willing to bet most of them still don’t realize this is a protest song. Ronald Reagan certainly didn’t get it when he adopted it for his ’84 campaign. Although I am proud to be an American, too many times I am embarrassed by my fellow citizen’s ignorance.
Toward the end of the show Springsteen spoke about the homeless and the need for each of us to help. A guy with beer belly stood up and screamed – Born to Run. Several others echoed the sentiment. I looked at my friend and we just shook our heads.
Last week, the 2003 Nobel Prize for Literature was also announced. It went to South Africa’s J.M. Coetzee. He often writes about the personal consequences of apartheid. You’d expect the Nobel to recognize such an effort, but at least the coverage of the award will spread the word about Coetzee’s work.
It was yet another Monday morning for me, alone. I read in the paper that Israel attacked a target in Syria. It’s the first time in thirty years that’s happened. As most Americans head off to work this week, how many will even think about what our leaders are doing overseas? Springsteen was right to bring his political agenda to his audience, and as long as artists continue to have the courage to take on the world’s difficult issues, we still might have a chance.
As I sit in my home office now, trying to clear my mind of a personal tragedy, I realize there’s much more at stake than my broken heart. It’s time to get back to work.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
