Second Appeal

Either there are fewer of you out there then I at first believed, or more of you hate me than I thought I deserved.

Fortunately, I've come up with a third option: poor communication.

Having my degree in communications makes this all the more embarassing, but if Dr. Ashmore taught me anything, it was to learn from my mistakes . . . or was it that a cheese-log is a great holiday present?

But I digress.

The point here is that my novel, Tears of Heaven, is in a competition and needs your votes!

That's right, instead of me entertaining (or boring) you with the banality of my life, I can now entertain (or bore) you with the banality of a life I made up, in my book Tears of Heaven. The best part of my book, Tears of Heaven, is that you don't even have to read it! That's right, I've reduced your input into my potential future to a minimal effort at best. Simple click anywhere in this blog where it says Tears of Heaven, and you will be transported to my mental efforts. Then scroll to the bottom and click whatever you feel like giving me. Nine or ten stars seems to be the going, but just for fun you can throw a one star my way out of spite or scorn.

So, act now! Tears of Heaven is not available in stores and maybe not even through this special offer.

Did I mention it five times? I'm told that's the key. One, two, three . . . yeah, looks like five. Now if I don't get your votes, I'll know it's because you hate me. Oh, the guilt!

And We're Off

Besides being just another jock, I aspire and attempt to actually write stories. Sometimes funny stories, sometimes meaningful stories, sometimes stories that make you laugh or make you cry. I write because I love to read. In reading, you and the author form a symbiotic relationship akin to a short-term marriage. Initially, you're excited by the hand-holding of a new book, the first words spoken seem fresh, and the touch of page-turning is stimulating. As the relationship goes on, you might have your fights, your differences, but ultimately you persevere because you're invested in the concepts, the characters, the prose or the plot.

Sometimes, those differences are too many, and you throw the book down in disgust, stomp on it as it stomped on your heart and then launch it into the fiery center of a thousand burning suns to carve its very essence from reality.

Or else you donate it to a library.

Whichever.

Having been enamoured by a master story-teller at an early age, I had the naive belief that all authors subscribed to such high-minded and in-depth story-telling. Alas, this was not the case. Some authors were redundant, foolish, some down right boring. Floundering in this sea, awash with need for a decent story, I took on the role of story-teller myself.

Flash forward two decades, and I've only managed to truly complete one story in novel form. During those long, cold, despondant years of hope I have learned that wanting is by far easier than having.

For example, I want to be a world class runner, make money from my looks and live in quiet semi-seclusion near a lake appearing at regular intervals on talk shows to share the secrets of my success.

What I have is some vague hope to actually finish a 10K, about $28 in my savings account, and a nice house with electrical issues and a tendency to pass all earthly heat into the brittle winter night.

Still, I aspire to become better than I am. I run reguarly, work semi-hard, and try to mend my house into the semblance of modern architectural genuis that it can be. I also write on a regular basis, trying to tell my stories in a way that is compelling, interesting and above all sellable.

To that end, recently I stumbled upon an American Idol-type contest sponsored by Simon & Schuster publishing and an online writer's forum. The contest is called First Chapters and gives unpublished authors a chance to be read, critiqued and voted upon. The site puts up your first chapter, and people vote on it. If you get enough votes, you go to the second round and then the third round and perhaps the Winner's Circle of a publishing contract and book promotion. This seemed to me like an interesting opportunity and so I submitted my Tears of Heaven for consideration.

I am pleased to say that it was accepted to the contest and is now up for the first round which you can now read, critique and grant 10 stars to as the best work of fiction you've laid eyes upon in your entire life.

Or, you know, 9 stars if you're feeling conservative.

If you're not familiar with the premise of my story, here's a short synopsis:

Nephilim are the half-angels that have lived among mortals for centuries doomed to serve or die. Their service includes the fighting of demons, stronger, faster and able to channel dark powers. Del is one of the best at this work, and yet even she has failed from time to time. Centuries before now, she found love. Centuries later, she has only pain, anger and despair. Now, with the lives and souls of children on the line, as well as her own, she must overcome her own doubts on the most dangerous mission of her life.

Hope that's something that you would enjoy reading.

The Resolution Will Be Short

Sherman, set the Way Back Machine for 1953, Harry Truman was the President, High Noon was playing in the theaters, and a young William Holden taught us to laugh. It was the year that I was to make my last, my final, my ultimate New Year’s Resolution that I would keep, like a cheap set of luggage, from that day onward.

What was that resolution, you might ask?

I’m glad you did, otherwise, this would be a short article with only the first paragraph for you to read.

Of course, if you want a short article, then by all means, ignore the question asked, stop at “onward” (excelsior for you Latin buffs), and go ahead and leave your comments in the comments section.

But for those of you for whom curiosity didn’t just kill the cat, but broke its legs, burned its ashes and then scattered them to the four winds, please read on.

Cat lovers may also wish to stop here and comment here on my lack of love for the friendly feline.

My resolution that year, the second in the history of New Year’s Resolutions that has been kept so faithfully, was to not make New Year’s Resolutions henceforth. I have been diligent, like the Maginot Line, in keeping safe and secure this sacred duty. Unlike some, nay most, I have peered prophetically into the future and seen it lines with broken promises, shattered hopes and crushed dreams.

This seemed a loathsome and terrible burden to hoist upon posterity, and not willing to be part of the problem, I opted to be part of the solution. A solution that has so far proved as in vain in its hope as the War on Drugs or Hip Hop music.

This has caused me no end of pain and long-suffering head shaking as I watch while so many others fall where I have succeeded.

You may recall that back in October I joined some unnamed gym mostly to get on their monopoly of treadmills. My record was near spotless, as unblemished as an unblemishless thing that suffers no blemishes and would never be blemished by them. Yet, sadly, I must admit to watching the hordes descend from their Holiday gorging and tromp like cattle through the doors of my gym where, like locusts, they devoured every aerobic machine and workout device.

No treadmill for the Rob was to be found when I sojourned there on a merry January 2nd, 2007. No rowing machine, Stair Master, stationary bike, free weights, lease weights, or rent-to-own weights. No lifting machines for arms, legs, neck, inner thighs, outer thighs or even fingers. Even the cleaning supplies were being used by people who just wanted something, anything to burn calories.

At first, I was put off, even angry by this intrusion into my house, my place of fitness. Yet, as each day passes, more and more machines, once happy to give of themselves exclusively to hungry Resolutionites. Now, many are abandoned once more, while those who worked their Zyphoid Processes to feel the burn have abandoned them once more until the next year when a new horse will descend, eager to make this year different.

And I, meanwhile, smile happily, as they trudge, beaten and defeated, into the oblivion that is the number ten 2007 broken New Year’s Resolution. And here are the other nine for your viewing pleasure:

9. Donald Trump and Rosie O'Donnel: Keep a lower profile.

8. Steve Jobs: Rest on my laurells and not invent new stuff for Apple.

7. Britney Spears and Paris Hilton: Be named the Best Dressed.

6. George Bush: Never admit I'm wrong.

5. Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez: Institute sound fiscal policies.

4. Smokers: Breathe that magic flavor in the last bastion of true democracy!

3. MySpace: Increase standards.

2. French Louvre: Foster worldwide peace through art.

And the number one broken New Year's Resolution for 2007:

1. United Nations: Keep the United States in line.

For Shem

There are a few things that go toward marking yourself as a "true writer". First, you need to have suffered (relatively speaking) heartache, disappointment, failure and pain. All of that occured to me back in third grade when Jill Baker broke up with me and dashed all my hopes of a perfect life.

Second, you need to acquire some kind of strange ailment that critiques and college English Lit. students can ponder and postulate into the "meaning" of your writing. I lost my appendix at 22, and now have a mild form of carpel tunnel syndrome. That's pretty much the Red Badge of Courage for writers everywhere.

Third, every true, struggling "writer" must have compiled lists of authors and agents that he/she can place rejection letters next to prior to wall-papering the house with them. Since I'm lazy by nature, I opted to not compile my own list, but rather found a list that someone else had compiled and rode those coat-tails to my current level of writing success. Go ahead, look up my latest opus, I'll wait here.

The list that I use is Jeff Herman's Guide to Book Publishers, Editors & Literary Agents. Mr. Herman comes out with a new list every year, which is a marketing strategy that has only been eclipsed by bottled water and soap on the scale of money-making schemes. After all, there are no fewer than ten-billion would be authors, playwrites, poets, and nome de plumes just itching to become the next Dan Brown or John Grisham.

Yours-truly is certainly among those.

I like Jeff Herman's Guide because it breaks out the publishers and agents seperately, and provides responses to surveys he sends out to each of them, so you can read exactly what they want to see, in what format, with how many pages, and what kind of SASE (self-adressed stamped envelope) so that you get your rejections in the swiftest possible manner. If I sound bitter at all, just refer to paragraph one of this article.

I'm nothing if not dedicated to the cause of being a "true writer".

The reason for this is that Shem or his wife, asked what I used to send out my feeble efforts into the realm of publishers and agents in order to give them the side-splitting laughter they deserve before they buckle down and read those truly gifted with the ability to write. So, there it is. Jeff Herman's Guide is what I use, and I'm sure I've aided Mr. Herman to take that fifth trip around the world as he's always wanted.

So, if anyone was torn on what to get me for Christmas, New Years, or Gerald Ford's funeral, please, feel free to provide me with the latest version of Mr. Herman's helpful little guide for a "true writer."