Saturday, February 3, 2018
Bruce Springsteen had his first hit in Australia with "Born To Run". The track was met with moderate success until the advent of FM radio, where the crisp and clarity of transmission put it into perspective. When "Born in the USA" was released, it became clear that Springsteen was tormented by women in his life. "Tunnel of Love" being the benchmark.
The internet has given insights into the writings of Bruce, as we, fans, can now delve back and discover the trauma in his life - predominately created by relationships - and how it was covered in his writings.
Writers, it seems, capture the essence of the their relationships, in their words.
And so while reviewing some previously written material, I discovered that traits of certain women in my life had found their ways into my words. Some it was the way they wore their hair, others it was their toxic relationship with their mother, and most always included the trauma of being a father.
I never considered it before today but it appears that Springsteen was one of the most influential writers in my life.
In Bruce We trust.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
In the James Bond film, Spectre, the "Nine Eyes" committee chairman, "C", advocates for more surveillance.
Recently, and not for the first time, I have, again, discovered that one of the people in my past, is yet again stalking me. This time, they are operating under their own name, with ambiguous credentials for their employment. Truly, one of those moments in life where I can now look back and say that I missed a bullet, this is a person who made their choice to depart from my life.
So what is it that keeps bringing these persons back into my life? It's hard to believe that this person, or the previous, have any interest in what I do - they have not contacted me. (Contacted others around me, but not me.) Lingering in the background they just seem to be watching what I do.
Perhaps lamenting the wrongs that they portrayed to me, waiting to see if such atrocities will make it into print.
Here's hoping that I never make it the list occupied by Gwyneth Paltrow, Lennon and Jodi Foster.
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Three weeks into the new year and what have I learned form the Writers Lament?
I've learned that I have not protected my writing time enough.
Until such time that i can rest on my laurels (and royalties) I have to continue to write. Sometimes it's not for the money, today is was for the message for my children.
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
I was a father to two.
I still am, but my daughters don't know it. I continue to write about what has gone on, and what their father has lived through in their absence. One day, when I am gone, they will read about really happened.
Until then I continue to write.
Science fiction. Memories. Relationships.
Three subjects I am apparently, not very good at.
Thursday, January 18, 2018
18 years on.
"Bravo 910, would you proceed to the Wool Store please. Alarm sounding."
It was another long night at another fire.
Still photograph at 1 minute 39 seconds, Police Command Post.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
At this time in December, most people look back on their accomplishments and make resolutions for the next year
As a writer, 2017 was the first year I did not have a major publication. How did this happen?
In December 2016 I received a new assignment at my employment. That task was a lot of creation and documentation. I was just getting the place secure when in July I received another assignment. That, my current assignment, has blacked out my writing time as I grapple with sixteen hours days seven days a week.
Not that it's an excuse, but it robbed my writing time. Lesson learned: protect my writing time.
T'was not as though I did not write, I wrote in the moments that I could, in the arenas I am comfortable with, in the genres I tried. I just didn't "follow through" and spec enough to have a major publication.
2018 will need several major publications.
Happy New Year.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Merry Christmas from Chesterfield Inlet, a place of few igloos.
No one chooses to be here, it's just a place where the soul goes.
SoCal is still close to the hurt, and those last few thousands miles, the cold, and the isolation, numb that which robs the soul.