Oh, the ways of The Force...Here, let me admit
my love of The Rockford Files. What a fantastic
program and very, very inspiring to my writing
as you will see. Thank you Senor Garner, well done.
Monday, 4 August 2014
Sunday, 3 August 2014
Saturday, 2 August 2014
Friday, 1 August 2014
Wednesday, 30 July 2014
Friday, 25 July 2014
Tuesday, 22 July 2014
Thursday, 17 July 2014
Thursday, 10 July 2014
Wednesday, 2 July 2014
Tuesday, 1 July 2014
Sunday, 29 June 2014
Friday, 27 June 2014
Thursday, 26 June 2014
Wednesday, 25 June 2014
For many moons, I've been adding little stories
to my autobiography. Here's one I recently wrote:
MORE THAN ONE BLUE MOON
I used to listen faithfully to a radio station in Maine.
On summer nights it would play those old 1950s
songs, do-wop and R&B that I loved. One evening
while The Everly Brothers were singing, or
Fats Domino, or Mary Welles, I worked up my
courage by the telephone. I remember the door
was open to the porch and the ocean was out there.
Across the bay the little houses and vehicles were
dots of reflected water light. It took me two more
songs to pick up the receiver and dial.
When the DJ answered, I could hear the music
in the background like the soundtrack of a drive-in
movie playing with mosquitos in a chrome car
covered field. I asked if he could play ‘Blue Moon’
and he said sure and hung up. That was all it took,
but I felt instantly at ease again. I could breathe again.
All I had to do was listen and wait for The Marcels.
After a commercial break for the horse racetrack
and Mammoth Mart, the DJ returned to the
microphone and announced the next song was a
special request and the needle touched the vinyl
with a rushing crackle. Now, in those days, I did
think of myself as one of those 1950s teenagers
I saw in the movies, Diner and American Graffiti.
I expected a lot from this DJ, you would have thought
I was a moth caught in the glow of the radio dial.
Except the song he played wasn’t what I asked for,
it was ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ by Elvis Presley.
Even though Elvis recorded ‘Blue Moon’ in the
echo chamber of Sun Studios, why didn’t the DJ
play that instead? Maybe he wanted me to know
there was more than one blue moon.
Tuesday, 24 June 2014
I finished reading Tom Robbins’ Tibetan Peach Pie.
Both he and Kurt Vonnegut mention their gratitude
to the Golden Age of Publishing when you could
actually make a living with your writing. (Nowadays
most journals and contests charge the author to submit
their work.) Of course I still cling to that Golden Age
dream of the paid author but that hope is vanishing.
These are different days. An especially great change
that has occurred very recently is the ability for the
author to self-publish. Now I have my own press,
Good Deed Rain, and I plan to print all those
long-waiting novels and stories of mine. (Coming up
next is a collection of 5 novels.) And it’s possible to
print on demand so I’m not swimming in boxes of
unsold books. It’s really a wonderful development,
a new golden age of publishing that I’ve been waiting
for years to happen—I’m not making a living writing
but I can see my books published.
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