Blog

My Blog

30
I had many ideas for my blog this month, but one piece of news I heard just struck me as wrong, and I felt it worth writing about. I heard recently that some civil rights activists find it offensive that statues and memorials commemorating the American civil War remain standing, and they want them torn down as if destroying them and the memories of history would change our problems today.

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30
Eons ago, when I started my first book, I didn’t know squat about writing. One of my first problems was keeping my imagination flowing. Back then I hadn’t developed the writing habits that help keep my imagination going like nowadays. The only thing I discovered was that I needed to relax. I had always heard that some writers like Hemmingway and Stephen King were heavy drinkers. So I decided what was good enough for them would probably work for me. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

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28
It seems a part of getting together with old friends that inevitably the conversation stays to “remember when?” and the “good-ole days.”

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31
I have never claimed to be a nice person. It wasn’t in my upbringing. My father was a mean drunk who not only didn’t have time for a family, he wanted a different one He was a notorious womanizer who claimed I was an accident; and a lazy shit who was unworthy of wasting his hard-earned money.

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31
I endured another holiday of family gatherings with my normal lack of gusto. Visiting my mother who has given up on life, and refuses to get out of bed was depressing enough. The rest of Christmas day was spent with my son and in-laws.

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31
VThis isn’t a commentary on the Presidential election. I’m sure we’ve all had enough of those. This is more a commentary on how people, particularly leaders, need to act responsibly. Last week a Detroit Pastor made a statement which was so irresponsible, so inflammatory, I thought he should be arrested.

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30
Like most kids, I tried to answer the question of what I wanted to be when I grew up.

For me, the answer came in the mid-1960s during a Detroit Lions vs. Green Bay Packers game while preparing for Thanksgiving dinner. I recall sharing the couch with my grandparents in the family room of our rented ranch while sitting before our tiny, Panasonic black-and-white TV. Both my parents were drunk. My mother was hovering between the family room and the kitchen while trying to watch dinner and the game. The smell of dinner was overpowering.
“Oh, I just love Alex Kraus,” my mother wooed and ogled at the Lion’s defensive tackle during one pass through the room. “He’s so big and strong.”

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31
One of the problems I imagine many writers face is learning how to write with distractions. I’m not talking about environmental distractions like noisy kids, although those can be a pain in the ass, too. I’m thinking more about life’s distractions, I’m thinking about the kind of distractions which ruin your concentration and imagination… the kind that ruin your day of writing if you can’t clear them from your mind.

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