Monthly Archives: February 2021

Perceiving The Possibility Of A Tangled Mess

I completed my latest novel. After performing rewrites and edits twice, I sent it to my editor. Once she completed doing what editors do, she returned it to me. I perused the manuscript one more time, and then sent it to my publisher, perceiving the possibility of a tangled mess.

My publisher was pleased, but in her great wisdom, she suggested a number of changes that would take the novel a notch above its present level.

I was on board and jumped in with both feet. She said it would be a lot of work, and indeed it was; however, this also included the tedious untangling of stuff.

You could probably relate to this ordeal better if I were to make a comparison.

How about a bird’s nest? Not, the type that an avian constructs and moves into until the kids finally leave and the parents become true empty-nesters . . . (hysterical laughter) . . . but the kind a novice fisherman gets on their first attempt using a bait casting reel. If you’ve been there, nuff said.

What about that fateful day when your spouse announces, “It’s time to decorate the Christmas tree!” And guess what? . . . You’re in charge of the lights!  I’ve often wondered how a single and sometimes multiple strands of lights can transform into a knot just sitting in a box for the better part of a year.

Ever tried to untangle a 50 or 100 foot extension cord that’s been wound around someone’s elbow and between their thumb and forefinger multiple times? I believe I’ve said all that needs to be said . . . oh, and one more thing remotely related to the last few paragraphs but instrumental to the post, a good publisher is worth their weight in gold. For they not only care about book sales, but for the author as well. And, may I say, my publisher is quite a few steps above good!

Have a stellar week, God bless, and as you reach for that ball of twine that fell behind your tool box and began to unravel . . . stop! . . . life’s too short for the aggravation. Buy a new ball.

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Even More Frequently, Words Demand that They be Recognized for Their Unique Contribution to the Written Word

A post or two ago, I wrote about the ins and outs of the letter ‘X’. Certain letters stand out and command special attention. Even more frequently, words demand that they be recognized for their unique contribution to the written word.

Case in point: the multi-purpose word, “take.” At first glance, you see nothing special about this word that would lead you to believe it deserves accolades for anything. Then, you delve deeper into this seemingly ordinary collection of letters and perhaps you’ll begin to see.

“Take,” you say. “Take what?” With those two words you’re on your way. Take a nap, take a break, take a powder, take away, take off, take a bath, take a sample, take a little, take a lot, take a test . . . I believe you get the idea.

How about in the case of travel? Take a vacation, take a hike, take a cab, take a ride, take a train . . . I think I’ve made my point.

Then, once again, if you happen to be of questionable character: Take the money, take the gold, take the silver . . .nuff said.

And, one last time as we highlight the medical field: Take a pill, take your temperature, take an x-ray, take blood, take a cold and so forth and so on.

As you can see, the four letters, “t-a-k-e,” come together, producing an extremely versatile word. So take time, whether you take a minute, or take a second, to take a look at taking a gander at this utilitarian collection of letters that form the word, “take.”

Have a great week, may God bless, and by all means take care!

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As a Younger Lad, the Original Vocation That Captured My Attention Was One of a Rock Star

As a younger lad, the original vocation that captured my attention was one of a rock star. I had taken the time to think through every aspect and was confident I would find my place in the limelight. Armed with all the necessities (i.e., instruments, amplifiers, drums, P.A. and the personnel, including myself) to play, vocalize, and operate sound equipment, I set out.

Now, when beginning a musical career in the rock star arena, it is a hard and fast law to start in a garage–hence, the title, ‘Garage Band.’ After months of rehearsals, these practice sessions upset the neighbors and provided numerous appearances by the police for disturbing the peace. At this level you earn the right to play your local low-class establishment (AKA “a dump”) for nothing but exposure.

Eventually, you work your way up to playing higher class dumps, and from there to the club circuit in the nearest city to where you reside.

The first time I stepped into a recording studio, I knew I had it made, although the enjoyment was outweighed by the heavy tug on the pocketbook. This monetary hardship is in turn lightened by the finished product. It’s the circle of music and the price of fame, which still eludes me today.

I finally retired from the music biz after my son was born. I came out pretty much like I went in. Playing the gambit from dump to class and making enough money to afford strings and pay my bar tab each weekend.

A bit of time has passed since I pounded out power cords and lead riffs. Though I derive more pleasure writing sci-fi fantasy novels and listening to my hard rock favorites through the speakers in my writer’s room . . . thinking back on my short lived music career– the stages, comradery, music, and a beer or twelve . . . it had its moments.

Have a great week and may God bless!

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