Thought-Drive

The director of the program where I had my first job out of college recently went in for his second hip surgery. A group text got circulated, the kind that encourages people to reach out and well wish. I was a week late with my communication, and even then called at a bad time. A few days after that, he called me back, and filled me in on his recovery and retirement. And rehabilitation. He explained the pain of the program, of the discomfort of building up strength again, in preparation for when the pain medication runs dry and one has to endure without supplement. He told me about a lady he used to see at the hospital, recovering from a knee procedure, and how she would always cut corners. He saw her some months later, apparently. She had a limp, and would forever require the use of a cane. I used to be pretty good at math. Or, Maths. I thought that when the cover for the second book arrived, I'd be able to hustle through the publishing process. The problem was that I peeked at...

My manager gifted me with a bookstore gift card for the holiday, and this past weekend I decided to go and see what I could buy. I spent very little time researching my options and cursed myself later for my dereliction. I walked circles around the store, gift card in hand, like maybe it was a dowsing rod or other divination tool. Like it would vibrate when I was near the item I sought. I had aspirations, and each was quickly dashed as it bubbled up into my mind. I saw the music section in the back and thought about all the music I wish I had unlimited access to. Then I realized I don't own a CD player. I thought that surely there must be some mechanism to purchase mp3s and transfer them to my phone or a cloud account or... and then I was in the toys and games section. I thought about something to put on my desk, a puzzle I could articulate that would stimulate my mind while winding away the down hours. But I had never heard of any of the games; I was suspicious of the promises on...

Over the past few months, I've been on a kind of cooking quest. I have a lot of gaps in my education and understanding of food, and the most used machine in my various living situations has been the microwave. I had pots and pans, but I had them more out of reasoning that I should because other people had them rather than that I should be using them. I spent some hours staring over a friend's shoulder in late summer as he meal prepped for the week for his family. I learned about cutting techniques and spice families, heating principles and preparation fundamentals. The biggest thing was a growing comfort with the preparation of food, personalizing the various procedures. I've ruined a lot of dishes, but in so doing I've learned a great deal. I'm going to relate this to a recent conversation I had with my cover artist. He sent me the latest version of what he'd been working on and I was, as usual, impressed. However, he expressed to me that he was having diffi...

So I have this pair of jeans. I bought them to replace a pair I had from the 90s. It didn't occur to me then, how long clothes, especially jeans, can last, and how important it is to get the correct size and preferable fit. At the time I was just tired. I had driven a long way only to find that they were a little long, and slightly too big. I paid without thinking; I paid for years because I didn't think. Fast forward to now, and they're starting to fall apart, because of wear and because they were too big to begin with. A large hole in the knee finally became too large to ignore, then when I did ignore it, it became even larger. A friend had access to sewing supplies, and gave me instruction on how patching works. I don't know what the fabric was for originally, but it was presented to me as durable and sturdy, and the white color was similar in hue to the faded denim of the thigh and what was left of the knee. I went to work, and after stabbing myself a dozen times, ...

A lot has been said about the margin of error. Or victory. How small it can be, and how such a small thing increases the size and meaning of easy-to-overlook details. I personally love Al Pacino's speech from Any Given Sunday . The cover for the first book has been done for months. For a similar span, the book has been available for purchase electronically at non-Amazon type places. I get a royalty check here and there. The plan, though, the plan was to push things through over at Amazon in the same interval to become visible to that many more readers. There was a whole timeline, which I dismantled with my incompetence. First the file was in the wrong format, so I had to go back to my artist. Then, it required one image, which included the front cover, the spine, and the back cover. I went back to my artist again. He was very kind to me, making all these after-the-fact changes. All of this because I wanted to fix an issue I had going back some nine years now. At my publisher, be...

Not a whole lot to report on the writing end. I've organized my to-do lists, and like every other time recently, was surprised at how much I'm not doing. I have three novels I could be submitting to agents, but I never developed a good system for generating the kind of volume I need to make that worthwhile. There are a lot of success stories about people finding agents, but on average it takes dozens and dozens of submissions before anything sticks. While I'm working on edits, maybe that's something I'll do: make yet another list. In the mean time I looked at this image in layers. First was the first-response factor; did I like it in and of itself. Then the content factor; did it do what I needed it to do as a cover for the novel resting behind it. On to the logistic factor; thinking about the issues last time, where does my byline go, and the title, and does that obscure any of the finer elements to be placed later. I'm happy when I think about the even...

Been a while. So long that I can't really remember when I last wrote here, or what about. I have a distant recollection of some ambitious plan perfumed with an abundance of optimism. I'm not going to be a downer. I'll just say that I've learned a lot. Today I sit in a laundromat while my dirty clothes rotate in soapy water. I always wondered about those people, in the movies and TV shows, sorting garments and slotting coins. I can now add that experience to the list of recent experiences. I don't see the same people regularly like I thought I would. I don't have any conversations with strangers like I hoped I would. Like I feared I would.  But the weekly chore-ritual has settled into its place, predictable and quantifiable. What I haven't been able to work through as yet is the writing. And I guess that part is a bit debatable. An artist friend professes that thinking about writing, outlining, sketching, even drafting temporary, unrelated things counts....