Chapter 2, Page 4

Sorry about missing the past few blogs. Last week, I sent my novel off for professional editing. Over a three-week period, I went through the entire manuscript. I used the editing corrections from the sample pages and saw my weaknesses (not staying in past tense) and I fixed them up. I also discovered that what I thought was Volume One, turned out to be Volume One and Two. My manuscript was too long, so it took me a day to decide where Volume One should end and Volume Two begin. The decision feels right. Also, it appears I’ve now written eleven volumes. This week’s writing topic: Historical reading. Since my manuscript was residing with another, I was now free for leisurely reading (which I rarely do when I’m working on something as I feel guilty for taking time away from my creation). At work, I continued reading “Life on the Mississippi” by Mark Twain. I’m enjoying it immensely. I have a small copy which I keep on me for reading at restaurants or in waiting rooms. Just the other day during my lunch break, I was reading a very scary chapter about back in the day in Munich, Bavaria, where it was the custom that a person must actually be dead before they buried him/her. Dah? I guess the grave robbers were finding scratch marks inside the coffin lid. Because of those occurrences, all the recent corpses were in a big room with a string tied to one finger and the other end of the string tied to a bell above. The watchman’s job was to stare at the corpses for movement and to listen for the bell to ring. I’m not a fan of scary material, but Mark Twain does tell some good stories. My lunch break was over and I finished the scary section. I then went to the bathroom and as I’m washing my hands, the bells start ringing. My heart nearly jumped out my chest, and then when I heard staff shout it’s a fire alarm, I started laughing. Coincidence? Synchronicity? I cannot say. I recommend “Life on the Mississippi” not just because of that story (Chapter 31) but because it is an interesting story. One of these days, I hope to travel the Mississippi River. I looked up on the Internet information about the Death Watcher in Munich, Bavaria, circa 1880s, and could not find anything. However, this would make a great novel or screenplay if someone would like to pursue it—who knows, Tim Burton or Johnny Depp may be interested in it. In “Life on the Mississippi,” I also read a family’s account of the battle of Vicksburg (imporant Civil War battle fought there with surrendering of the Confederates) and how during that 8-week siege, the citizens were pretty casual about being in the middle of the North and South. They would run to the caves depending on the sound of the cannons. This would also make an interesting story for a writer who doesn’t have a solid idea at the moment, also known as ICM (Inability to Create Magic). In the evenings, I’ve been reading poetry, specifically, “Changing Light,” edited by J. Ruth Gendler. The book is divided into the changes in the day—sunset, night, sunrise, etc; and the poems chosen deal with a specific topic. Very creative idea! There is some nice art work by Ms. Gendler. What I found interesting is the poems I was becoming attached to were by Rumi, who I feel writes longer versions of the Haiku. So, I got on the internet to learn more of Rumi, and wow did he have an interesting life. He lived from 1207 to 1273 and he was Persian, even though 3 countries claim him, but he is considered to be what is now known as Iran. He is well-known throughout the Middle East, and I’m kind of bummed out that we never knew of his poetry as I feel it is just as good as Angelou, Frost, Dickinson, Blake, Keats, Shakespeare, Psalms or L’Amour, etc. (Yes, Louis L’Amour wrote a book of poetry “Smoke from this Altar,” and a biography, “Education of a Wandering Man”—both were fantastic reads. At the end of “Wandering Man, he listed all the books he read given a particular year—very useful. (So Tough Guy, go to the bookstore and fork over some dough to be Literated.) If I had time, I would definitely write up a screenplay. But as you know, I have 11 novels to push, plus other novels and plays I’d like to do if I could quit my day job and focus on my writing all day. Also, if you live in my area, my serial killer skit, “Just Desserts,” will be performed by the MHS Drama Cub, 10/22, 10/23, and 10/24, at 7PM. I’m looking forward to seeing my words come alive. This week’s writing tip: Read about history. Current literature is great; it keeps us authors employed and the economy moving. But for my personal path of self-improvement, I enjoy reading historical fiction and nonfiction (they’re both sold at the bookstores). However, to me, it’s more enjoyable to read an author who was experiencing it first hand. For such a long time, I’ve wanted to read “Pliny’s Natural History—an account by a Roman of what the Romans knew and did and valued.” Also, historical novels are great, too. If you like creepy, then “Perfume: The Story of a Murdered” by Patrick Suskind, can teach you a lot about 18th Century France and especially interesting in how Perfumes were created back then…who knows, probably still today. But if you’re in a romantic mood, there is always the “Angelique” series by Sergeanne Golon where you’d learn about the Sun King, Louis IX and you’ll be exposed to a ton of other history—it’s a series don’t forget. And all writers should read poems on a regular basis—not just to connect to the poet’s feelings and passion and trying to figure things out, but also because you see and enjoy phrasing of words that are as delightful as eating the best chocolate ever. But more importantly, reading poems should be every writer’s daily affirmation of choosing the right word. By reading something entirely different, you might develop an idea for a poem, a short story, a novel or a screen play. Or take a trip somewhere because you read about it in a story. It’s all good.


*******All right! Mr. Celebrity will soon get some action. (For first time readers, please jump to the blog: Chapter One, Page One.)***


…I must be certifiably insane to perform on stage with actual people in the audience!

The worst cut of all was no fair maiden would wail in despair when dastardly Macbeth’s head is carried on a pole. Hell, Shakespeare never viewed Macbeth as a romantic lead. Why didn’t my friend Don Anthony pick Hamlet? Hamlet was a chick magnet and Shakespeare’s teacher pet. Mr. To Be or Not To Be was blessed with the ultimate universal appeal every human being could relate to: Doubts about doing the right thing. High school winter production, I acted the suffering, insecure Hamlet. My reviews proclaimed I was a natural on stage and should star in the next movie remake. Method acting was a breeze when your pathetic personal life matched Shakespeare’s greatest tragedy.

Twelfth grade! Yeech!

I hated thinking about my senior year, especially since I haven’t conquered my one shameful internal conflict. And because of my paranoia of anyone finding out about it, I turned down every persistent request from the alumni and reunion committees. My vow was to never step foot on my high school campus or be around those who knew me back then. My nightly prayers always included a P.S. of the tabloids never learning of her, either. I sighed. I may have matured since high school, but I never moved past to resolving that issue. After I fire Fremont, maybe I’ll discuss that tragic incident with my next therapist, Dr. Ruth.

I stared into the bathroom mirror. Inspection of my brown hair revealed further desertion of the troops and thinning of the army. Ugh, it was too soon to bring in the Rogaine!

I compelled myself to examine my face. Oh Lord, look at my eyes! The bags underneath were squeezing out every bit of blueness left in them! Ladies Home Journal will never again graciously describe these eyes as being sexy. This wasn’t fair! I ate healthy organic foods, I exercised with my personal trainer, Raul, several times a week, and more importantly, I didn’t smoke or used substances and enjoyed two glasses of wine each evening. I’m richer than…98-percent of the world population, but there was nothing I could do to halt the aging process. I refused to take the laser route. And face-lift, be damned; it was not natural—only narcistic women and insecure men did it. Truth be told, I was scared to try a simple chemical peel for fear of turning into a plastic surgery junkie like Fremont, who made quarterly pilgrimages to Dr. Bruno Swan, Hollywood’s A-list chop shop surgeon.

Man, I just turned forty but I still have not outgrown being Mr. Wishy-Washy—never making up my mind. If a deadline loomed, I allowed others to decide for me. If there was enough time, Stella’s guidance solved my every problem. The few times I made an important decision entirely on my own, immediately afterwards, I distrusted my choice and feared I’d get into an even bigger mess. This typically led to repeating the decision-making process until procrastination resulted in the situation taking care of itself. Decades of worry and paralysis not once provided an end result I was proud of or comfortable with. I sighed. I was exactly like good ol’ Charlie Brown.

Crap! I hate thinking about him and despised myself more for begging Mr. Ranger to cast me as Snoopy in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. It was my last performance in high school, and I desperately wanted to play Snoopy so the visiting casting agents could see I had range to play zany characters, not just the romantic lead or the tragic hero. But Mr. Ranger said I’d make a perfect Charlie Brown, and unfortunately, I was.

Since then, no other acting job sucked me deeply into the nuances of characterization like the role of Good ‘ol Charlie Brown. And sometimes…I don’t know…sometimes. I knew I sounded weird, but it was as if Brown’s personality never truly left me.