Thursday, October 29, 2009

Dream State Update V4

Good Morning Crew. I know its been awhile since I left a Dream State update, bad part is I had to look at the post to see which version we are on.

My apologies for not providing more info, but to be honest the process was driving me nuts. Reminds me of a joke…

Pirate walks in a bar with a ships wheel sticking out of his pants.

Bartender – Evening Mate, you know you have a ships wheel in your pants.

Pirate – Arrrrrrrrrr, and its driven me NUTS.

End Joke.

Anyway, back to the reason for the post.

I was notified that the proof copy of Dream State is being printed, and that I should expect it in the next two weeks. So whats a proof copy, it is the product of all the piece parts of the process. It has the full cover, the text blocking, all the text pieces included. Basically it's the first time I get to see the final product.

Upon approval the book migrates from production to sales and marketing and the real fun starts.

Thanks to you all for being a part of the journey. Your riding along has made it much more enjoyable.

Robert E

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

A Challenge of sorts

I was talking with a friend of mine and we were discussing whether or not I should try to publish my collection of poems. Based on something I had read from one of the self-publish houses, I would need another 8 poems to have a collection large enough to publish. One thing led to another and I said I thought I could write 8 poems before I went to bed for the day. Immediately after agreeing to this, I took a nap. An hour and a half later, I churned out six poems by 9:00pm.


 

There is more to the challenge, though. It had to be based on a single word, and the poem had to embody the selected word. The six poems vary in length, but I tried to cut straight to the point of my interpretation of what the word invoked for me.

Leave comments if you're inclined.

Lesbian


 

Same,

Different,

We are two,

Though still relevant.


 

Our growth lies,

In our closeness to one.


 

Unnatural,

No,

Comfortable,

Pure as the driven snow.


 

We seek our love,

With those,

That really understand.


 

Stay


 

The covers are so cold,

Save that one spot,

Where your foot stay,

Anchoring me,

Keeping me from running astray.


 

Anchoring me,

With the innocence,

Knowing the warmth was,

From you relaxed.


 

Regardless the day,

Troubles that may,

You make me relax,

Until they melt away.


 

Precious sleep,

Shut out the world,

And stay.


 

Work


 

Up with the crows,

Staring at the coffee,

Planning the next no show.


 

A job well done,

Used to be all that was required,

To enjoy the rising of the sun.


 

Politically correct,

Frustration filled,

Meeting to meeting,

Something always gets spilled,

The pace is so quick,

I have not yet become,

A master of the trick.


 

The trick you see,

Is to know,

The intended actions,

Of the seeds that we sow.


 

Forget the job,

For all it provides in truth,

Is prevention,

Of you being a slob.


 

Work the magic around you,

Grab what is near,

Create for you the next grandest view.


 

Unreasonable


 

If we look deep,

Only in the places we sleep,

We will find a vast collection.


 

Our eyes see all,

Nothing escapes our view,

Our minds filter what it doesn't understand,

Keeps it all stored for later review.


 

Our past experience tells us,

What is within reason,

Where the lines are drawn,

Defines our mental season.


 

We make the choice,

Where the bounds get stretched,

Truth be told its as easy,

As a dog playing fetch.


 

Face the unreasonable,

With love not fear,

Watch as the obstacles,

Fade to shear.


 

Time


 

Seconds pass,

Minutes tick by,

Hours stack up,

Then bleed into days.


 

The stress,

Of the event,

Is not like,

Sleeping outside in a tent.


 

The joyousness,

Of a new meeting,

Always seem at the end

To be so fleeting.


 

Judge not right or wrong,

You will know them all,

Before you reach your prime,

Savor your time.


 

Dichotomy


 

Breaking silence,

Noise from the dark,

Red eyes of evil,

Skin as rough as bark.


 

Calling me,

Come hither,

The sound of the voice,

Makes my courage wither.


 

Paralyzed,

Can't move,

Can't breath,

I'm drawn in smooth.


 

Closer I come,

To seeing the terror,

Closer I come,

To me.


 


 


 

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Haircut

I was about to get in the shower earlier this afternoon, and thought about taking a very simple thing, a haircut, and turn it into a little poem. Unlike many of my poems this one has no revelation at the end, I wanted to see if I could do it.

Your comments below will be my proof if you chose to play along in this little game.

If so Thank you, If not, Thanks for considering it.

Robert E

+++

Haircut

Soft,
Long,
Twistable ,
Fine.

Looking Frantic,
Almost like Einstein,
Out of control,
Wild with Idea.

First,
Grab the clipper,
Run it across my head,
Shave it as close as a zipper.

Paint brush will work,
To remove the clippings,
Just an example,
Of a garage hair cut perk.

Next,
To the shower,
Soap to the scalp,
Water flows like rain.

Squeaky clean,
But for the stubble,
Just a little gel,
And that too,
Will be rubble.

No more twisting,
I’ll just have to settle,
To rub the five o’clock shadow.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Do your daily communcations feel like this?

An Email from my niece. She is trying to find paying work in marketing after graduating Magna Cum Laude from university.

+++

Dear Yadda to Whom it May Yadda,

I yadda yadda'd this to you yadda afternoon concerning yadda and yadda, yet still have not heard yadda yadda from you.

Please yadda as soon as possible, or I will be forced to yadda your yadda yadda

Yadda yadda, have a nice day.

Sincerely,
Yadda,

PS: Yadda yadda yadda.

+++

Does any one feel the same level of apathy when trying to talk to publishers or tell the story of your latest work to agents?

Brain Dump October 8, 2009

Recently, someone I consider a friend posted on her blog about the Call. Read her post here to understand what started all this. http://winsloweliot.com/2009/10/waiting-for-the-call-that-you-think-will-change-your-life/.

I commented to her post the day after. It took me some time to determine what I wanted to say, how I was going to react. Now two days after and ensuing reviews of those written words, plus one bodaciously climatic conversation with my bride, I have come to my conclusions. (SPOILER ALERT This view will change over time)

Heres a the back story. In Spring of 2000 I decided I wanted to try my hand at drawing. Nothing earth shattering, I didnt want to paint the ceilings of great churches, just manipulate the pencil and shapes until the thing was recognizable.

Quite simple beginnings really. In a two year time span I obsessed over the venture, I created enough drawings to share. One thing led to another and I found myself a featured artist in three shows around my home of Atlanta. Hell, I even sold some of the works. I even let my baby go, my first large scale drawing, a 24x36 canvas that took over 300 hours to draw.

That was it, I haven’t really drawn anything sense. The paper quit telling me what it wanted to see, what it wanted to show to the world, and without that conversation before a drawing started, my muse drifted away.

The introduction to Dream State tells the story of how the book came to be. It was never intended, the original thought was to play around with words FOR MYSELF to relieve some stress, try to get rid of all the shit that had piled into my brain. Eventually it took on a life of its own, the words started to flow under their own fruition. About two years into playing, I decided to throw it out there to see if there was interest in the creation. That decision made, I finished the story on one of the highest notes of my life. The ending floored me and I had no idea where it came from.

Then came the research into how to publish a book. What a cluster that industry is. I understand now why many of the great authors wound up killing themselves. They weren’t crazy, they were frustrated. Six months ticked away and no response from the agents. Sorry, lots of response, none favorable. Then I got an offer from a joint venture firm, and I took it. I decided when I went out for this first one that I would go as far as to self publish just to get the book into hands.

Here I am now almost six months after that original contact with the firm and I am still waiting for the proof copy. Soon, I keep telling myself. Just a couple more days and they will notify me that it's in the mail. It’s almost as bad as waiting for the call. Let’s face it, when it is available is anybody gonna buy it? Will it be as big as I think it can be? Will the public like it? I have turned into the Head Cheerleader in high school, overly obsessed with people thinking I am attractive and talented. It’s amazing.

To the point, Bobby, damn you’re long winded.


In all the events, the transactions of getting published and released, I made a mistake. I forgot what I was doing. I was supposed to be having fun, creating something for the pure enjoyment of creating. In the beginning I didn’t care what others thought. In the beginning I just wanted to see if I could tell a story.

Then my motivation changed when I decided to publish. I wanted to illicit conversation, I wanted to talk about the characters, I wanted reactions, I wanted to feed my ego. (There I said it)

I started writing little snippets of poems, (never done it before) and I got quick reactions, my ego got stroked. I sat and pounded out two and three poems a night for about three weeks. Then it was gone. I have tried to write poetry recently, only to look at it and say Really? You’re kidding right?

Back to the point. I have been struggling with what’s next, what’s the next premise, the next idea? And just as surely as my ego drove me to write more and more, it has turned against me. My ego or its evil twin, had filled my head with all the self doubt, loathing, and rational reasons why I should not try again.

Why mess up a good thing? You did it now go try something else.

Problem is I’m hooked. The feeling I got when the story came together, when that last piece fell into place, seeing the reactions on people’s faces, all mind blowing.

I wrote a little a couple weeks ago when the day job had turned into a 24 hour a day job, the secret to life is acceptance. And in that acceptance of self we can find freedom and peace.

To close this long winded post, I will continue writing. I will continue creating, for at the core of who I am, that is what I do. But, I will change how I do it, I will gag the back seat driver in my head and write for the moment, in the moment, with no preconceived expectation of the results. I will write without a goal, or a direction, and let the stories tell themselves. As Dave Matthews said about “Corn Bread” on “Live at Peidmont Park,” “…If you don’t like it, what I’m s’possed to do!”

I can quit the exhausting worry about the call.


Thanks for reading.

Robert E

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Thursday night thoughts

If you peel back the layers of the onion we call life, and really look at the way everything in your life happens, you will be interested. In that moment of internal review, whether it takes a day, a minute, thirty days or a life time, you will be surprised. When you finally set aside all the things that you know you are not, and really see for the first time what you are, you will be amazed. When you accept there is no other path you could have walked, to get you to where you are now, you will find peace. When you realize that no other decision could have been made for you to experience exactly what you are experiencing right now, you will lose guilt. In that instant, you will realize, each and every thing that has happened in your life is based in the desire you had to experience it, you will find acceptance. In that instant you will see, there is no way for you to fail.

Robert E