Back in the Scrabble Again

Three chapters into the new novel, and it finally feels like it's coming back to me. The flow. The focus. The feeling of the right word at the right time. ("The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between the lightning and the lightning bug" --Mark Twain).

When I was writing A Handful of Dust, I got to the point where I was in that space all the time. I would do things like forget to eat and sneak away from parties to go back to my typewriter. Granted, it took me eight years to get to that point. Eight years of living with that story in my head and gut. While I was in Dublin, I finally figured out how the story could be told. I came back to Michigan as quickly as possible, found a free place to live, stocked up on coffee, pasta, and red wine, and wrote.

I stuck an index card on the wall above my typewriter that said, "Writer's write; everyone else makes excuses." Another wall was covered with hundreds of small scraps of paper with the details of the book scrawled on them. I had my journals, a few stacks of books, and a small radio tuned to the public radio station -- I organized notes during classical music and wrote during jazz.

This time around I have a studio/cabin full of books and CD's, a good supply of Rainier beer, a talkative cat, and the mountains. All of them help.

Tomorrow morning, we start chapter four. Wish me luck.

Today's Writing . . .

. . . Not a word, really.

I looked at chapter 3 of the new novel I'm working on. I changed one or two words. I remembered the the type of boat motor I wanted to have one of the characters use was an Evinrude 7.5 horsepower. But other than that? . . . Crickets.

Well, in all fairness, I did write most of a blog about 9/11 and having dinner with three amazing and pretty well-known writers, but it began to feel like a facade for name-dropping, so I scrapped it. There was a point to it, though. Maybe I'll rewrite it and just use their initials.

But the point is; I'm trying to get into the habit of writing everyday. At least a page. Or a poem. Something to justify this life of complete leisure I've managed to devise. Maybe I can decide that today was the last day of a little vacation and tomorrow it back to the grindstone. Yes, tomorrow there will be two pages to make up for today.

I did write something the day before, though. A short poem that I composed while still half asleep. It made much more sense at the time, but here it is:

Smoke rings silent
around the bell of his head
Bell rings once: deafening

By Way of an Introduction

Greetings and Salivations!

So I've finally decided to keep a blog. I've been blogging erratically on my MySpace page and haphazardly over at AuthorsBookshop.com, but it seems high time I got a little more focused with the whole enchilada (blue corn from El Azteco).

My idea is to use this space to discuss background, backstory, and bacteria relating to my published and unpublished writings. I'll flesh out topics that perhaps necessitated being passed over a bit lightly in their original form (whether poem or prose piece). And I'll try to answer any questions that anyone may have regarding my work -- or anything else for that matter (I can B.S. like a PhD and PDQ, too. OK?)

What writing works are these, you may be asking? (Imaginary audiences are great: you can make them ask all the right questions. Plato knew that better than anyone, that's why he sounded so damn smart all the time.)

Anyway here's what's been published (feel free to give them a browse before continuing, and by all means, order a copy or two):

The Moon Cracks Open: A Field Guide to the Birds (Poetry)
A Handful of Dust (Novel)
Jihad bil Qalam: To Strive by Means of the Pen (Anti-War Anthology; Editor)
and three poetry chapbooks: Saginaw Songs, The Lost Writings of Miscellaneous Jones, and When God Was a Child.

There have also been several plays produced/performed at the 303 Collective, CAGE, and Bedlam Studios. You can learn more about them here.

I'm hoping that this blog proves helpful and entertaining to my readers (and helps new readers find my work). So spread the word, pour a strong cup of Josef, or open a bottle of red wine -- preferable a San Giovese (the "Blood of Jove",) or crack a cold one -- preferably PBR (the Drool of Joad), and put on your reading goggles: Here comes the CrowVoice Journal.