True Life and Fiction

T oday , we mourn the passing of Maya Angelou--a poet, writer, actor, dancer, gardener, and civil rights activist.  She was so many things to so many people. I believe she was probably best known as author of the best-seller, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings , published in 1969. This first novel put her into the recordbooks as the first Aftrican-American woman to produce a best-selling novel. She will be missed. For more information, her biography can be found here: http://www.biography.com/#!/people/maya-angelou-9185388 It is worth looking at as she provided a wonderfully positive example for so many.

W omen - Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever fully understand them. Why? because I'm a man and I've discovered that, while men are simple, women are complicated. I'm not talking what wine to drink with chicken or beef complicated. No, not how to match sock color with the rest of your outfit complicated. I'm not even talking Rubik's Cube complicated. I'm talking about calculating the vastness of the universe complicated; pondering the philosophies of Plato, Aristotle, and God complicated. In comparison, men must appear like simpletons to women. We basically see and name about twelve colors, while color selections are endless to them. Our underwear come in two basic styles: boxers and briefs. Yes, I know that there are other styles but men will still classify them into one of the two aforementioned categories. In keeping with this complication of all things woman, I made a grand discovery this last week while shopping with my wife. We wer...

photo credit: bioedge.org First off , I'd like to start with a disclaimer that I'm about to espouse all kinds of advice I probably have no business espousing. Well, that's not completely true. I do have my own experience, and the experiences of friends,  for my benefit--and yours. Many new authors, whether going it alone or using an agent and/or publisher, are completely unprepared to succeed when they publish their first story. Let me emphasize this:  It does not matter whether you decide to publish independently or rely on a publisher, you must prepare if you want to succeed. This means that you have much work to do besides just sitting back to watch your book sell like hotcakes... because it usually won't. Please, learn from my experience. I published my first novel in December of 2010. I did it independently and breathed a big sigh of relief when I was finished. What I didn't realize is that I was not finished. In fact, publishing the book and getti...

Funny how memories work. I sometimes find myself reminiscing about some event that happened in my early childhood, and yet, I cannot remember what I had for dinner last night. So, for today, I will post about the former, having absolutely no recollection of the latter. I'm pretty sure that, when I was very young, both my parents worked. This is because many of my memories of these times involve a babysitter. This particular memory starts with the antics of my brother and I while watched by a babysitter. Funny though, I only remember certain things like the fact that this babysitter lived in a trailer park. Maybe she was a neighbor as I remember, we also lived in a trailer park at this time. Anyway, my brother and I were prone to activities that usually were brought to an end with a belt or switch. I would not say that we were mean-spirited or little demon boys, rather, we were considered "all boy." I think that today the term has been renamed. It's now call...

Photo credit: www.greenewave.com W ell, this doesn't happen often. It's 3:30 AM and I'm sitting here wide awake with my head and throat on fire. Sleep completely alludes me. It's these damn allergies, I suppose. I mowed the lawn today and the pollen count must have been at record highs. This kind of thing usually does not bother me. But I guess that this is just one of the many 'perks' of getting older. Every year, I discover new allergies and ailments I never knew I had. Maybe it's because I'm getting old, and my body is saying, "Keep moving, you don't have time for sleep." I don't know. I feel an ever-increasing fear as each year passes that I'm running out of time. I fear I will die before I can complete all my story ideas. Some of these stories pull on my heart and mind as if to cry out, in that strength one finds when their life depends on it, and dominate my mind. Others visit me in my dreams, bringing me through a lo...