My friend Amy Matayo frequently writes about the travails she faces in writing. One of her greatest laments is her wardrobe. Evidently, if I’m reading it right, she rarely goes beyond the yoga pants and a jersey level of dress. Given that Amy is beautiful, that’s not a huge tragedy. My writing wardrobe, on the other hand, scared the pizza guy pretty badly on Monday.
I understand why, and I apologize. You see, the corner of the room where I’m writing this week is pretty cold. It’s -6 outside right now, and there are two exterior walls within three feet of my chair. Mind you, there’s also a big radiator, but the cold walls are winning. Victorian houses have that lovely feature. I suppose if I turned on the fan over my head it would keep me a bit warmer, but I’m lazy and it dries my eyes out. (Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I know.)
I digress. The wardrobe for the day, the outfit that floored the pizza guy at the door, consisted of a pair of shorts, black tennis shoes with orange laces, a hoodie that says, “In God We Trust. All Others We Monitor” with my former rating insignia (CTI) emblazoned beneath the words, and my reindeer hat. Yes, I found it after I was pretty sure I’d thrown it away. Old Rudolph is missing an eye, but the thing is insulated and very warm. The nose was sticking out from under the hoodie, and my beard was tucked inside as well.
I regret that I have no picture to share with you of this illustrious addition to the long history of badly dressed authors. I will take a picture next time. It won’t be long, because I really like that outfit when I’m pounding out words.
Words. Lots of them lately. With the launch of Assault on Saint Agnes coming up on April 18, I’ve been working on getting reviewers lined up. If that includes you, as someone who’s either read a beta copy of the book, or a professional reviewer of books who would like to do so, please contact me via the comments tool. I won’t publish your information, but I want to make sure we connect.
I’ve also been working on not one, but six other books. Yeah, the brain is overfull these days and stuff is just screaming to be let out. Thankfully, my wife knows this is needed and lets me sit in my reindeer hat and bang on the keyboard.
I’ll have some more updates about the book in the very near future. Less than three months and counting.
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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
Yeah, like that will happen because some clown in Minnesota says it will. Nope. But the point of this blog is to offer my thoughts on it now that the furor has died down. It has been my experience that while everyone is in full-throat over any controversy the logic of the situation fails. I may be full of beans, but I do have some points that will make you think. Or, possibly, fling poo. That’s up to you. Just remember: I don’t print negative comments on the blog. That’s the great part of owning the keys to this thing.
Yes, even an uncultured Yankee like me knows that this is not “the” Confederate flag. But for purposes of argument, let’s pretend it is just that symbol. Because for 99.999% of the universe it is what it is and it’s the Confederate flag. It is also, whatever it is called, the flag that is creating a stink among many.
Ground rules: You can fly anything you want over your own property, put it on your vehicle, tattoo it on your forehead. Have at it. Confederate flag, Fozzie Bear, Hitler, swastika, hammer & sickle, five stars (Communist China), or your mother’s smiling face. That’s your business. Be prepared for consequences including public shaming (this doesn’t mean I’m playing the dozens on your mama) and ridicule. But it’s your property, so be free.
Now we’re down to a bit of the probably-revisionist history involved here in the real world. The simple fact is that after the Civil War, the winning side – The Union – was as tired of the fight as the losing side – The Confederacy. So rather than make a big stink about some states having it as a part of their state flag, and some losers (remember, they’d been beaten in battle) flying the flag, the United States turned a blind eye. It was much easier than occupying the whole south and dealing with an indefinite insurrection. Enough lives had been lost, and frankly most people up north didn’t really care that the black population was left to fend for themselves. Politics – it was as bad 150 years ago as it is now.
Fast forward to the late 1950’s and the emergence of the civil rights movement. Suddenly the flag was taken up by some chowder heads in a few places and made a symbol of racial oppression. To be precise, they were governors of the Democrat party. Not Republicans. In specific, they put the thing up to annoy the federal government. And to scare black people and northern liberals and college kids who came south to help organize the black vote. (That’s pretty loose, I’ll admit, but it does cover the major points.)
Now the thing is a big point of contention. And while many innocently viewed it as a form of ancestor worship, and historical significance, it was still the symbol of the losing side. I’m trying to remember how many other losing sides we let keep their colors… Well, I’m sure there are some. But you’ll have to go a long way to find a Third Reich flag flying in Germany. Out in the open at least.
Fast forward fifty years to 2015. It’s pretty clear that our fellow citizens with black skin don’t like the symbol. Not all, but most. Some people with white skin don’t like it either. Some, as a matter of fact most. But it’s not a big deal to most white people. Why? Because most northerners write it off to the south being a bunch of in-bred, ignorant hill-billies. Like it or not, that’s the way it looks from the cultural elite centers in New York and Los Angeles, and right here in my own neighborhood. Hard to work up too much animus about ignorant people.
Mind you, I know that’s not true, but perceptions are what they are. And the perception is that the Confederate flag that is shown above, and most of its derivatives, are viewed as symbols of oppression, racial hatred, and slavery by most black people. (I’m not black, but I do listen.)
So how about we do this: On private property fly what you want. On state property, and that includes license plates, school football rallies, school grounds, etc., you can’t fly it. The one notable exception would be national cemeteries. That is because members of the Confederate armed forces were deemed to be veterans of the United States of America in 1958. (Yes, even that is steeped in controversy, but let’s let it go – they’re all dead now. At this point, what difference does it make.) So if their great-great grandson wants to put up a flag the person fought under on the grave, let’s let it go. Please? Hassling the dead is a losing game.
Back to the present. I am not advocating removing any Confederate monuments. Most are to local heroes (yeah – again, let’s not quibble. Besides, some are fine statues) not to the cause per say. I think anyone that defaces those monuments is a disgrace. Please tell me what that accomplishes.
But it is wrong to continue to fly that flag from state grounds, school grounds, and display it on state symbols. Get a new design. Let’s get together. I have a lot of friends in the south, and I’m pretty sure that none of them own slaves. Or endorse slavery. Or are members of the Klan. Or any of the other reasons the south is routinely bashed.
We owe that to our black brothers and sisters. It’s not much. It’s an acknowledgement that we are all one nation, one people. Under one God. Pray for unity, avoid the taunts.
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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
I have been contemplating leadership issues of late. There seems to be a dearth of good leadership in modern America. Instead we have supervisors, managers, advocates, and charismatics. The actual practice of leadership is missing. I define leadership as inspiring the pursuit of excellence in your subordinates, peers, and superiors by sterling example.
Throughout my life I’ve been inspired not just by the people who were in positions superior to mine, but by those subordinate. Each of them had the courage of their convictions and the ability to do the right thing in spite of obstacles, objections, and fear of failure.
This era is apparently coming to a close. I look with dismay at Washington and my own state capitol where it appears I am viewed as a serf, not as their boss. Throughout the land we’ve produced a group of “leaders” who routinely lie to us, abuse their positions of power, and scorn the founding principles of this republic.
When the people try to seize the power and right the course of the nation, the press lavishes dirt and dismissal on their heads. “The leaders know best.” But do they? Are any of the current leaders in our political sphere truly there to lead us in our struggle to better this nation? Or are they lodged like splinters in your bottom, irritating and rough. Much like a splinter in your tuchus, it’s darned hard to remove them because they’ve lodged in a spot where you can’t reach most of them.
The incumbents in our land are sapping our strength as a nation. There are no leaders involved, more like leaches. Think for a moment about what you’d like to see in our government offices.
I would like to see people versed in the Constitution. People who are unafraid to say unpopular things because it might cost them their jobs. I’d like to see citizen servants return to the government as it was at the time of our founding. Until we institute term limits, something that “the leaders” all fight against, we will continue to provide glorified welfare for the political class in this nation.
Your job, as a citizen, is to seek these people out, require candidates for office to seek this course, and thrown them out when they fail as office holders.
I’d have to be way more pretentious than I am to even attempt that trick. First of all, I’m not a theology major. I am a Christian. But Star Wars is not about Christianity: it’s science fiction with an alternative universe where we go to have fun. So don’t worry that I’m going to delve into “Satanic influence on the costume design” or some other nonsense. Nope, I’m going to talk about it as a kid (I still am that kid) who went to the opening night of the original movie, stood in a crowded lobby for three hours, on May 25, 1977, and totally frustrated the date I brought. She, by the way, is now a very well established and respected doctor. I’m writing reviews of movies on a smallish blog. Hmmmmmm…
This was a first in a couple of ways for me, and I think it may have been better if I’d only done one of them in a single outing. But lest I frighten you, I loved the movie in every way.
The big first was 3D. I’d never seen a movie in 3D before. I found out that dry eyes, astigmatism, and slightly scratched lenses are not a good combination with the rest of the 3D experience. It wasn’t bad, just that it wasn’t as good as it could be. I’m bringing eye drops the next time. I realized this when I shed some tears during the movie and the clarity on the screen was amazing – yeah, I’m just dumb enough not to have thought of that until that moment. The use of 3D in the film is pretty good, and there were a couple of WOW moments. But for those of you with less than optimal distance vision, have a good set of glasses that will fit around the 3D lenses and some eye drops. ’nuff said.
The movie. I could bore the snot out of you with a crippling analysis of the story from a writer’s perspective. I could discuss decision gates, multiple level meanings, foreshadowing, dialogue, and Mc Guffin’s.
Nah. Let’s get back to that 17 year old nerd that was so blown away by the movie that he ignored his date. (Again, is my wife a Saint, or what? I’m still that nerd and she’s stuck with me!)
The Force Awakens honors the original trilogy (episodes IV, V, VI – not that nonsense that came after them) and reignites the franchise. The only thing that could have made it better, in my opinion, would have been a sacrifice of the lame characters such as Jar Jar Binks in some sort of lava wave. A very slow lava wave. With lots of screaming. But I digress. Many of the characters you love are back in this episode. Most of the ones you could live for eternity without are not present – it’s a total win on that level.
The dialogue is vintage. Right out of Episode IV. That would be enough for me. But they managed to keep the look of the Empire in every respect. Yes, time has passed. But given the technological evolution of this universe, the stable elements would not change much. The passageways of a WWII aircraft carrier are not much different, at first glance, than on a new Ford Class carrier. So why should the way they design hallways in the Empire be significantly different than what we saw in 1977?
The worlds/spacecraft have the one thing that impressed me most in 1977: dirt. Stuff is used. It’s like real weapons, homes, basements, bazaar’s, etc. It’s not the perfect, clean, well maintained world that so much of science fiction used to show. I like that more than you can imagine. It makes me feel like reality is on the screen.
Into author mode for a very brief moment: the story was well paced in all but one spot. That spot was meant to convey a meaning and an homage to the original movie. Since I promised no spoilers, you’ll have to watch it to see what I’m talking about.
The new cast are all good in their roles. Old curmudgeons (like me) usually complain about new characters. I like them. I like them because it means that we will be seeing more action in the future. They all did a creditable job and hold so much potential. The thing to remember is this is essentially a new franchise with this movie, and the people debuting here are in for a lot of character development. I’m optimistic.
The photography, battle scenes, and wardrobe were all good. The “look” was on the money. I was enthralled, and sat like that kid from almost 40 years ago: riveted to my seat.
Dialogue. I heard what I expected from established characters. The way they should say it. At the right volume levels. Perfect. Couldn’t ask for more.
The story. I did promise no spoilers. Go see it. I will say that it was more than I expected. Lots more. Very well done. I will wait for the next episode with anticipation.
Part of my utter joy at seeing this movie was my careful avoidance of all the speculation before the release date. I know somebody made a big deal out of Carrie Fisher‘s something or another. I’m glad I didn’t delve until this moment into that topic. Carrie, if you’re reading this I’d like to thank you for an excellent performance. You’re three years older than I am, and you’ve aged just like I have. The 17 year old who watched that movie would be horrified by the 56 year old sitting at the keyboard. I suspect your 20 year old self would be equally horrified. They both would be so wrong. I still think you’re beautiful and wonderful and talented and … well, I’m a fan. Ignore them, Carrie. You’re amazing.
I think Harrison Ford was in the movie somewhere, but I never had a crush on him. I guess he was okay as well. All right, he turned in a great performance as well. He’s stood the years better than I have. Dang it.
Would I take young children to this movie? Yeah. Toughen the little buggers up for life. Violent? In places. Anger? Lots. Powerful stories of grit and bravery? Yes. Sad things? Yes. I don’t think most children (under 12) would understand parts of the movie in terms of motivation. But it never was about kids except the toys. We’re back to a movie made for adults. BB8 is there to merchandise but I’ll toss them the bone.
What was the best part of the movie? Sitting in that theater seat and experiencing the wonder I felt 39 years ago swell within my soul. I have hope for the franchise once again.
Thank you, J.J. Abrams for making me a teenager again.
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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
This past year has been quite an adventure. Highs, lows, big time awards (Genesis win at ACFW), and a lot of health issues in our family during the intervening days.
But the 30th of December, the next-to-last-day of the year, will be one I remember a very long time.
Yup. Assault on Saint Agnes is scheduled to be published this spring – projected release date is 18 April.
It’s been a long, difficult, road to this date. Every writer out there knows the effort it takes to turn out a decent book. It wasn’t done alone.
My wife, Kip, has listened to me babble, rant, read out loud, and generally drive her nuts for years with my writing. She edited the first couple drafts for me as well. Without her, and her tolerance of my quirks, this never would have happened.
Tony Horvath, Athanatos Publishing Group, and his crew – including Deb and Dylan Thompson, were integral in shaping this novel, and it is with great pleasure that I announce that they will be publishing this award-winning book this coming spring. I could not have found a better publishing home if I tried for five more years.
Kip and I drove to the offices in Greenwood, WI, today to sign the contracts. I will also be doing the audio book once the final revisions to the text are in place. We have a cover, a plan, and a prayer. It is a great joy in my heart tonight, as well as a tired set of eyes from driving back in the snow.
Since I mentioned her, Stormy needs an update: She now willingly snuggles with me, asking for pets, kisses, and a spot on the bed on occasion. This is a very different dog than the one who came from rescue three years ago. Like the picture frame says, “Who rescued who?”
The best part of the day had nothing to do with writing. It was a letter from one of my Santa visits. I will not name any names, for privacy reasons, but it was one of those letters that leaves Santa in tears.
You see, the little girl whom I first visited last year was alive by virtue of a miracle. I visited because another Santa couldn’t do it and his wife knew I lived nearby. I squeezed it into my schedule and made it work – and it has blessed me for the past 370 days.
I am sometimes let into the presence of God, and miracles, by virtue of where I choose to go. I’m not going to get all preachy on you. My friends and coworkers know that I’m a coarse, sometimes horrendously so, sailor in manner and language. Preaching doesn’t work. But the truth does, and here it is:
Follow your heart and listen to God. It isn’t all about money or fame. The best moments in life are the result of the ten minutes you spend praying with a child in need, holding Grampa’s hand while he cries for his favorite grandson, or just smiling and handing out gifts to a little girl who has defied all the medical odds. Two years in a row.
Sometimes you even get egg rolls. Most of all, God gives you some peace and joy in your heart.
Here’s to God: Thank you for this past year. I’m trying to do it right, and ask you help me to hit the mark in 2016 just a little bit better. Well, a whole lot. But I’m thankful for any guidance you provide.
Be safe out there this weekend. I’ll be back next week. Me, the guy with a publishing contract.
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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.
I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.
