So Cruel....

As I've mentioned before, music plays a significant role in my life and my writing. And because my tastes in music run the spectrum from crooners like Tony Bennett to fun loving troubadors like Jimmy Buffett I have a lot of music to draw from for various moods that I might be in - or be writing about.

I'm currently writing the follow-up to my first novel Running Wrecked and I'm finding myself exploring the darker side of human nature. So for musical inspiration, I wandered over to the CD rack and started from the bottom looking for those albums that I haven't listened to in some time. The ones that slowly got rotated to the bottom as the new stuff came in. And there, on the bottom, I came across an all-time favorite that I hadn't listened to in some time - Achtung Baby by the Irish group U2. And on this album is a tune called "So Cruel." The first stanza goes:

We crossed the line

Who pushed who over?

It doesn't matter to you

It matters to me

The song is about a personal relationship gone bad - but it means more to me. It speaks to the cruelty we can inflict on each other without realizing the consequences of our actions. We cross the line everyday - and do we realize it? Who pushed who? Does it matter? It matters to me.

The first print review....

The other day my publicist showed me my first review of "Wrecked." I was a little nervous when he said he had a review for me - you never know how people are going to react to your work. I've had several people read my writing before - and they've never been shy with their comments - but this was different. Having someone outside your circle commenting on your writing is completely different than the people you know and hand pick to read your work. This is putting it out there.

But this is why writers write. To see the reactions of others when they read the words you put on the page. It's actually a great honor - having someone take their valuable time to read something that you cooked up. You hope you've done a decent enough job not to have completely wasted their time. Because in the end, I'm a story teller. And if I've bored you - if I've not entertained you - then I've done you a great disservice. I have failed you.

So in the end, reviews aren't really about me. They are about the reader. Because as a storyteller, it's the reader I serve.

What face today?

I'm writing the follow-up to "Wrecked" and I always start with a theme when I begin a project. For "Wrecked" the theme was seeing what you wanted to see based some event in your life. That and the animal nature of man and his ability to inflict cruelty upon others. I guess I haven't said enough on the latter because that's what Book 2 is all about. The duality of man's personality - his ability for kindness and his ability to be cruel. You see it everyday. Hell, I do it everyday. I open a door for an elderly lady and I yell at a guy that is moving too slow on the interstate. I guess we all wear different faces at different times of the day - and at different times of our lives. I wonder what face I wear the most? I wonder what others think about my many faces? I wonder if I'll ever be enlightened enough to only wear the gentle face?

Home is the sailor, home from the sea

One of the joys of my job is that I get to travel the world a bit. I'm off to the United Kingdom next week and I'm planning on spending a few days up in Scotland. And while there, I hope to get to the coastline. No matter where I seem to be, I can't help but be drawn to the sea. It pushes and pulls me, the sea. Like the moon pushes and pulls the tide, we are inseparable the sea and I.

Scotland is also the birthplace of one of my favorite childhood authors, Robert Louis Stevenson.

Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea.
And the hunter home from the hill.

This is the inscription from Stevenson's gravestone. Kinda sums it up for me.

On the wrong bus...

Okay, this is a pity posting. Just feeling a little out of sorts these days. Like I got on the wrong bus and they won't let me off. But I'm off to Jolly Old England next week and to one of my favorite cities on the planet, London, so that should cheer me up- I think. I just hope I don't get on the wrong bus over there.....

I think it might be the weather. Last week it was 80 degrees and now it's 17. I'm too old for that kind of roller coaster ride. But the sun is warm and the taxes are paid so it's all down hill from here.