The stories that won’t go away

A while ago I described the epic destruction of my second novel What if your story is boring?. For starters it was a solid idea. Sadly the storyline was not. 

Shred Pic 1


It was tough to shred months of hard work but it is what it is. I am a firm believer we didn’t choose this line or work, they chose us.

Monday morning was a new beginning. I was cautious in a way one would be if they were stepping on glass. But it wasn’t the story I was cautious with.

I was cautious with myself.


Can I sell it?

If I believe in something I can sell it. Just ask Sears when I worked for them during my college years. I could sell you a hammer in your sleep. But there was something in this story that I couldn’t sell and the person I couldn’t sell it to was me.

There was a doubt I couldn’t shake. A feeling that my balance was a little off. The shirt was a bit too tight. The hat to loose. You get the idea.


The audience wasn’t buying it.

cautious 1

Some writers can get past this. They put their head down and plow through to the finish line. I envy you if you are the one reading this.

Unfortunately for me there’s no plowing. There is no knocking over boulders and there’s no finish line. If I can’t feel it I can’t write it.  

When I completed my Monday morning writing things were different. There was no frustration. No regret. I started feeling the same way when I wrote book one.


It was exciting.


I could finally see the protagonist. I could feel him and in some ways I could relate to his troubles. That’s a good thing.

I saw him stumble and laugh when he was tossed out of his comfort zone. It didn’t take long for the confidence in me to come back. That tiny smile you and I have where we say – I got this.

I always understood the supporting characters but now I know where they fit. As we all know this is a puzzle we’re creating and sometimes we choose the wrong piece, or worse, the wrong box.

In this crazy journey sometimes the story chooses us. I’ve always envisioned pockets of stories floating around like clouds and every so of often they rain down on one of us.

That’s what this story has done to me.

It entered my mind years ago. A crazy scene that made me laugh. That little moment is all it took for the cloud of ideas to appear.


I am grateful it hasn’t given up on me.

It seems to know I messed up but a pat on the back and a promise for better days is all I really need. I am amazed at its patience.

This story reminds me of a best friend who looks past a bad moment and sees the big picture. They know what we’re trying to do and they’ll make sure we achieve it.

So here I go. Draft one all over again but this time it’s a much better feeling. I’m traveling along a far better road. The conversations are a whole lot livelier, the scenery a tad bit brighter.

I’m curious where this idea is taking me. It’s funny, I’m not the most patient guy in the world but times are a changing.

Rainy books


Music and Diaries

Piano 2

I am a firm believer that music has a soul. It touches us with its magic and buries itself deep inside to a place no one else knows.

I’ve had a special relationship with music since I was a kid. My earliest memories are filled with guarded secrets, buried deep inside the grooves that carry the sound.

These songs are diaries full of memories of people and places, some no longer here and others I haven’t seen in a lifetime.

I was thinking about this the other day when I was driving through town. I had on a local radio station that played the hits of the 80’s and 90’s. It was a normal day. The sun was a little hot. The traffic a little thick and a truck rudely cut me off.

The commercial ended, the music played and suddenly a memory came to life.


A band called The Sunday’s played and a beautiful song packed full of heartache followed.

Instantly it was 1990. August to be exact and The Sunday’s – Here’s Where the Story Ends  flowed through my speakers. In an instant the emotions and memories of that song came to life.

My mind took me back to that summer evening. I was knee deep in a shouting match with my best friend. I made my point. I won the argument and just as I was about to celebrate I watched as she cried and ran to her car.

Piano 1

The victory was short lived but the guilt that carried with it came back 28 years later.

Why this song, I asked. Was it playing that night? Was it on the radio, a CD or was it MTV when they use to play videos?

Whatever it was that song became a mark in a diary forever etched in my mind.

Sometimes I wish I could listen to a song and not be thrown back to a certain place and time. I wonder what it’s like to listen to a tune and simply enjoy it.

Sometimes I do. Not every song is like this. Some of it is high adrenalin and nothing more while other songs are pleasing to my ear.

But there are those that will always carry special meanings. They are a circle on the calendar reminding me of a time that otherwise would have been forgotten.

After listening to The Sundays I started thinking of ways to use it. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a curse. Maybe it can be an advantage.

I’m about to start Book Two. Like every story I write it will be packed full of emotion. There will be days where I will search for that emotion and at times I’ll come up empty.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way.

I could take these songs that I hold dear and exploit them. Ring the towel dry as they say and use them for the memories and emotions they are.

I have no doubt it’ll be exhausting.

Take Super Tramps Give a Little Bit. Something happened with that song. I don’t know what it is but whenever I hear it I have the greatest zest for life on has ever known. The cloudy days are full of sunshine. I’m as excited as a five year old on Christmas morning.

You get the idea.

Not everyone can do this. Maybe they’re the lucky ones but since I have this crazy relationship I might as well find a place for it.

If I need to be sad I’ll search out a Journey song from 1982 – minus Don’t Stop Believin‘  – who could possibly be sad to that?

And if I want a beautiful memory I’ll simply punch in The Cars – Just What I needed. I can still see her smile and taste the M&M’s. Especially the green ones.

So I guess it’s not all that bad. Looks like I’ve got some work to do.

Piano 3


Happy Friday Everyone!!!

Clueless in Critiquing – The things that I learned


I remember the first time I critiqued someone’s work I was nervous. It was my first writers group and I wasn’t sure I belonged. It was not because of my writing it was because I had no clue how to critique.

I remember it was a nice story. Not something I would actually sit down and read but it was nice and the person who write it was nice.

There were parts that could have been better. Certain scenes, I remember, that could have been explained or drawn out and there were some areas that were not necessary.

When my time came, I sat up straight, cleared my throat and gave a sixty second mumble, stumble, rambling mess.



Offhand I haven’t a clue what I said but I do know that those sixty seconds dragged on for the longest time. 

Luckily as time went on I improved. I stopped putting feelings ahead of the critique and the more I did the more confident I became.

But it took a while.

I’ve learned a lot since those early days. I think a lot of it has to do with listening to others who were way better than I was.

The way some of them could turn a story inside out and see details I couldn’t see fascinated me. It always amazed me how a person could grab a scene and see it in a way that captured an unknown light.


Teachers among us

coffeshop writer

The biggest lesson was watching them when they worked on my story. The way they could chop a paragraph in two or expand a sentence. It not only made my story better it taught me how to critique like them.

The most valuable lesson I learned was that it was not my story. For the longest time that was my biggest challenge.

I kept seeing their stories in my voice and in my eyes. By doing so I tried to turn their story in my direction. It took a while but in time I learned to drop that dreaded habit and respect the writer.

One of the hardest things to do when critiquing a writer’s work is pushing away the temptation to make it your own.

It’s tempting to take a chapter and advise them to redo it your way. Along the way I learned to turn off the switch and force myself to see the story in the writer’s vision.

When this finally happened I knew I had a chance to actually help them.


You did good my son (daughter)

The other thing I learned was compliments. It’s so easy to concentrate on mistakes we lose site on their excellent writing. It’s easy to scan for improvements while ignoring the good stuff that’s already there.

I try to point out a scene I like. The reason is not so much a compliment as it is to high-light good writing. It’s my way of telling them their story needs more of this.

When I first started I had no idea critiquing would help my writing. I always figured it was a one way street.

I was wrong.

It allows me to see the different ways a writer will explore a scene. More often than not, critiquing is a classroom where every day I come away with something new.

Try to find time to critique someone’s work. Not only will it help them it will make you better.

How perfect is that!

writing 2



One Hundred

I never post on a Tuesday but this is the exception. I just received my 100th follower and I want to thank every single one of you for following this crazy little blog of mine. 

I started out with an idea to write about things that made me laugh and think. I never realized I’d meet so many cool people. You are smarter than I’ll ever be and you make me laugh and think every day. 

THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


hug 4


Do you love your Smartphone?


Earlier this summer I was relaxing at a friend’s house. We were watching a movie, eating pizza and living the good life.

Suddenly a situation occurred that was far more entertaining than the movie. My friend lost his smart phone.


Honest officer, it wasn’t my fault!

Smartphone 2

I was sitting on the couch nestled between a dog, three cats and a plate full of pizza. My friend was reclining in his favorite easy chair complete with an excellent armrest perfect for all smartphones.

From my vantage point I saw what happened. Somehow his smartphone slid off the edge and landed safely in the side pocket of his chair. I could have easily pointed this out and within seconds his panic would have ceased.

But where is the fun in that?


Nicotine – Smartphones – Oh My!

Smartphone 4

A long time ago when I was a young boy I witnessed a scary scene. My three pack a day uncle lost his cigarettes. As I sat and observed my friends frantic search I was suddenly reminded of that fascinating day.

With the movie long forgotten my friend tossed throw rugs in the air, pillows and cats to the side. He even checked under the pizza box and the dog.

Thankfully I was left alone.


Angry wife and cats galore!!!

How he missed his phone’s hiding place I’ll never know. But I’m glad he did.

I grabbed another slice – Spicy Sausage, hamburger and pepperoni – and settled in for the scene.

My friend moved from the TV room to the kitchen. His voice was high, his mood agitated. He yelled at his kids, the neighbor kids and the dog. For reasons unclear he decided now was the perfect time to bring up a two year old argument with his wife that I’m guessing was unresolved.

With my friend and his wife bringing up bad memories, the dog barking and the kids disappearing to the neighbors, I calmly plucked his smartphone from the chairs comfy pocket.

I found an old shirt rolled up in a corner and laid part of it over his phone just beneath his chair.

With his wife in tears and the dog joining the neighbors I called out and pointed to the half hidden phone.


Memories of my Uncle

smartphone 3

The relief in his eyes matched the memory I had of my uncle when his MIA cigarettes were discovered.

So I ask – where are we in this world? Are smartphones the new cigarettes?

I will confess if smartphones were available when I was a kid I would have been knee deep in everything they have to offer. In fact my entire generation would.

Don’t let them fool you. We were just as bad or worse.

It’s easy to see the addiction. They look cool. They give you instant gratification and they give the user a sense of importance.

I have a lot of use for smartphones but at my age there’s a balance. I like them but I do not love them.

I wish I could see the world in a hundred years. I truly believe we are in the infancy of stranger things.

We love our gadgets. They are exciting and earth shattering but for some they turn into addiction.

I dodged a bullet.

The future will be fascinating but somehow we’ll survive. We always do. Every generation is convinced the next one will destroy the world but if you notice it hasn’t happened yet.

But just in case I’m wrong, please hang on to those damn things. Trust me, you don’t want to lose them and if you do some guy like me will keep them hidden for all the wrong reasons.


Happy Friday Everyone!!!

Smartphone 5

What kind of reputation do you want?

Mandy Hale

About a month ago I went to a message board and started a topic. The board belongs to a novel and short story site where one can add their work for critique. It’s also a great place to learn the craft of editing.

I rarely reply or start a topic. Not that I don’t want to, it’s simply a matter of time. Not enough hours in the day as they say. But in this particular moment I saw something missing.

A simple little thing that I felt needed to be filled.


Walking the tightrope of etiquette

My topic was all about giving thanks to others. A simple thank you when others critique your work. And another thank you if they felt your critique helped theirs.

I’m big on acknowledging a person’s good work or act of kindness and I’m not alone on this. For the most part we all think the same. Don’t believe the news you hear on the state of the world. People are generally kind and helpful.

Yes, I’m talking to you.

I didn’t think too much when I created the post. We’re all at fault for expecting things and sometimes we need to take a step back and realize how good we have it.  

By the end of the day my topic hit the twelve page mark with each page containing at least a dozen replies. The results you might be thinking were positive, sadly they were not.

reputation 1

Sorry I drowned your puppy

After reading just a few replies one would have thought I had called their mother wicked names or worse…an offering to drown their puppy.

Most of them accused me of stepping over the line. To them I had walked into something far more personal than needed to be. After a few replies defending myself I stepped away. I’m pretty sure my days of creating topics on that board are over.

One of the first lessons I learned in our world of writing is proper etiquette. A simple thanks or a like on a page goes a long way. 

We have chosen a profession where reputation matters. Going an extra mile or two does wonders for us all.

I’m a friendly person by nature. I was taught to give everyone a chance and to be nice. Not everyone appreciates the kindness but most do.

Creating a positive reputation is gold. The last thing I want is for anyone to think of me as high maintenance or demanding.

I have received a handful of rejections from agents and publishers in my days and I have replied to all of them with a thank you. I am not thanking them for turning my work away, I am thinking them for their time.

It’s the professional thing to do.

I’m not sure why I upset so many people. Maybe it was the guilt in them coming out. Whatever it was we need to pack the negative remarks in a box and open up a can of the good stuff. It’s all about the long term. Every now and then ask yourself a question:

What kind of reputation do you want?



Sixteen 2

A Letter to My 16 Year Old Self

A few weeks ago my oldest girl turned 16. As with any parent I always hope that all is well.

16 can be a tough time. Our minds are constantly moving. The world is stuck in the fast forward mode with catastrophe waiting on every corner.

Overall my girl is a smart kid. She is confident and has a lot of friends. But of course I will worry and I’m sure my grandparents did the same.

When I was that age I seriously doubt I paid much attention to my grandparents concern. If anything I was probably way too consumed in myself and embarrassed to be seen with them.

What I do remember about my younger self were the annoying pimples and the endless pop-tarts. I think I just figured out where the pimples came from.


What would I say?

So I asked myself what would I do if I could go back and talk to that kid that looked and sounded a lot like me.

First off, let’s pretend he’ll listen and if he did what valuable piece of information could I deliver?

Before all of this was possible I’d have to fire up the Zippy-Way-Back Machine. Make a note: The crank is wearing out.

If I arrived during the summer of that 16th year I would find him in Southern California. It was a huge summer. For the first time in his life he traveled out of the state of Washington all the way to San Diego.

He was visiting his dad and staying at the hotel his father managed. He was amazed at the local Safeway and how much it resembled the one in his home town.

Aside from the Safeway experience and the pop-tart consumption what would I say?

I gave this some serious thought. Below are the things that came to mind:

  • Your small town is not the center of the universe. Find a way out. You can always come back.
  • Talk to people about your worries. You are not alone.
  • Sneaking a beer out of the refrigerator is NOT your greatest achievement.
  • Your world will not come to an end if the cute girl in algebra doesn’t say hi.
  • Please try to match your clothes. It’s a nice habit to get in to.
  • Comb your damn hair!
  • Speaking of hair – Enjoy it while it lasts.
  • The high-school football star is not a world celebrity.
  • The fears you have now will seem ridiculous five years from now.
  • Get a part-time job. The experience will pay off.
  • Hang out with the kids in the drama class instead of the people you think you should be with. Of course they’re weird but so are you. Plus, they understand you and that is what friendship is all about.
  • Owning a car isn’t everything. Bumming a ride is good for you.
  • Your uncle is right. Professional Wrestling is fake.
  • Lose the polyester shirt and the rainbow bell bottom pants. Please!
  • In the fall of your sophomore year someone will steal your favorite Washington Husky hat. You will never see it again. Keep it on your head or keep it at home.
  • And finally: Please listen to others. You do not have all the answers. Make it a habit to keep your ears open and your mouth shut. Think of this as my bonus to you.

Above all else, please save the Husky hat!!!!!!!!


Happy Friday Everyone!!!