Publication News: Write On!

The last twenty-four hours have been busy. Having finally discovered how better to format a book for publication on CreateSpace through trial and error, I became confident that I should and could revise my novel, Amber Waves, to a more professional looking product. It took days and days to get things right – the joy of editing, which, if you remember, is the really hard part. But the result is in and Amber Waves is now available in its sleeker, slimmer version. I cut out the fat without loosing a word, and the paperback price dropped $2.50 to a new list price of $14. And it looks really nice. It is now available on CreateSpace and soon will be available on Amazon and most other online book stores. And I am working on a continuation – not a sequel, exactly, but a story that includes some of the characters from AW and a new group in new adventures. I also created a paperback version of my poetry volume, Banned in Boston, which is also now available for just $5.50. I now have two poetry volumes in paperback, and plan to create paperback versions of my other three. Meanwhile, today I learned that another e-zine, Oddball Magazine, wants to publish my poetry. This adds to a wonderfully growing list of publications that find my work worthwhile – vindicating me in my long held belief that I amd first and foremost a poet, and second a storyteller. It also means that my work had just begin, a great situation to be in at 64 years of age! Write on! Now, if you are not familiar with Amber Waves, let me tease you for a moment with the following line-note description: Jason Edwards cannot die. He lives in a world where people can, and do. He hides the secret of his extraordinarily long life by constantly re-inventing himself. But now, in the tiny town of Amber Waves, Nevada, on the edge of the Great Basin, his secret and his very life are under threat. Coming together around him are an FBI Agent, a coin collector, an ancient whore still plying her trade, a very casual deputy sheriff and an old Nazi in a pickup truck. Along the pathway to the inevitable confrontations that end the book, we travel with Jase through the history of his life and meet Nefertiti, Helen of Troy, Charlemagne, Martin Luther, and more.

Self Motivation

The days slide by, filled with inactivity. And yet, several encouragements and some successes have come to us during that time. Our new grandchildren are merrily doing their job: grow. Our six year old grandson is tackling full time school in First Grade and seems to be holding his own in his expanding universe. Diane has been crocheting beautiful goods for sale and a few have already sold. With the season over, her off season hours as a baker have been cut back as expected; she is filling her time with her other talents. Inactivity is not her problem, but mine. For me have come some very very small royalties for my books on Kindle and CreateSpace, and The Fear of Monkeys is the most recent e-zine to publish one of my poems. There also has been a less intense outpouring of new poems, plus an idea which I am reluctant to address for a long project I am reluctant to begin. My reluctance is two-fold. One (and always): can I do the idea justice? And two: will it absorb me and dominate me for the next full year, or two, to the exclusion of all else? Tangentially, am I ready for that kind of commitment and do I have the energy to tackle it? So I hesitate, watching other people’s long projects on TV – The Blacklist, The Roosevelts – and reading long histories by or about Dutchmen. Holland always comes into play, even in my new idea – Gerrit van der Meer, one of the producers of The Blacklist, is Dutch-born like me; the Roosevelts were descended from Nieuw Amsterdam settlers; one book, An Embarrassment of Riches, concerns the Dutch Golden Age; the other, Year Zero, about the immediate after-effects of World War Two in 1945, is by another Dutch-born author with the not so Dutch sounding name Ian Buruma; and Hollandaise flavorings will add character to the new project when I launch it. I thus write this blog to help turn my inertia into, at least for a moment, fingers moving on the keyboard. And then there is always an underlying, convenient thought, that I ought to do some proper research for my Dutch material on location. On that, I can dream. I once read that the hardest thing for a writer to do is to actually write. More specifically, I think it is to start. We will do anything, find any excuse, to put it off. Gotta visit a friend; gotta pick the grandson up from school at 3, so better not start now; let’s go shopping; the world is too depressing for me to focus on my own stuff; oh boy, Doctor Who is on tonight! It’s not writer’s block, it’s reluctance with a heavy dosing of avoidance. So excuse me, please, the last episode of The Rooselvelts is on the DVR.

ISIS: Missing the Point

Of course, I cannot stay away from politics or the world situation. I have been listening for weeks about the weakness in the White House, about a President who is too cautious, about a new threat apparently known for over three years that calls itself ISIS, about what the United States should do to curb that threat, about the dissentions in Congress over what actions to take or not to take. It gives me a headache, listening, so I find I must throw my two cents worth of noise into the mix. ISIS is dangerous. Our pundits claim ISIS is the most dangerous thing on the planet surface at the moment. Obviously, they are brutal and cold and seem to enjoy slaughtering people, even their own. They use terror as a tactic in their war of conquest. They seem to pose a threat for terror attacks on our soil. But we miss the point. ISIS is different. It is a critical difference brought forth in the word, “conquest.” They have a plan, they have a purpose, they have a goal, and that is a separate state combining Syria and Iraq. This is not a bunch of anarchists trying to blow things up and see what happens. This is a conquering army. Point number two that we seem to be missing: there are at the moment an estimated 20,000 soldiers fighting for ISIS. 20,000? Yes, they are well armed and terrifying, and whole armies run at the sight of them rather than be captured and brutally executed. But there are millions of people opposed to ISIS just within the region. So where are they – the Saudis, the Kuwaitis, the Turks, the Egyptians, and all the rest? Why does it have to be our fight? That is point number three. Even Iran could come into play here, as an ally, given the danger that ISIS presents. But we are involved – of course we are. Chuck Hagel said it best, saying that ISIS posted the biggest threat to our interests so far. He did not say to Americans or American tagets, he said our interests. That means our money, and that means our oil. But we don’t have to do this thing on our own or even with our troops, though I could see a tactical deployment of special ops snipers raising havoc among the ISIS leadership. Will ISIS win? That depends on the Iraqi and Syrian people, and the powers within the region. Will ISIS attack us on our soil? Always a possibility – but Americans must not allow misguided fear to dictate our actions, or, more specifically, our reactions. Let our President grow a set and tell us what we must do, and how; let the world isolate and if necessary eliminate this fraction of a fraction of a fraction of horribly misguided human beings among its ranks. Conquerors often take the upper hand for a while, but it never lasts, and ISIS will get that point for themselves, or be impaled on it.

Ketchup: the brag blog

Catching up a bit: We’ve been gone for several weeks, but we are home again and happy to be so. In that time The American Aesthetic published my poem, “The Wait,” in its summer issue. I invite you all to check it out, as well as the seven other marvelous poets represented in the issue, by visiting their webpage (key in American Aesthetic or follow this link: http://www.theamericanaesthetic.org/new-summer-2014.html). Once again, I am beaming with pride. I also am beaming with pride over our three beautiful grandchildren. Xander is about to start First Grade, which will be an adventure, a challenge, and ultimately a journey of many, many steps. CharleeRose is already two and a half months old and smiling, cooing, and growing. And the latest edition to the group, Chase, is a beautiful little boy sadly far away. Our time with him was short but bewitching and though I do not miss the State of California, I have many people to miss there – and many reasons to go back for occasional visits. It was so good to see all of you we did, and we are sorry to have missed the chance to see the rest of you. Please know we think of you all with great affection in our hearts. So here we sit, Diane and I, side by side, in our home by Flathead Lake, watching over everyone as best we can in our humble way.

Leaving Montana for a California Dream

It is 5:27 am in Montana. This time of year the days are getting shorter visibly if you can get up early enough to watch the sun rise. Before I finish this blog, the morning light will begin to dawn and the cool nighttime star fest will go to bed for another day. It is a marvel to watch, a constant unfolding of time as I know it. Just about 24 hours from now Di and I will be boarding our flight to California to see Baby Chase. Another marvel of the clock ticking relentlessly onward is the countdown. People who know me know how much I love counting down, but not to a finish, always to a start. Montana has been our home for over three years now, and its marvels and welcomeness have kept us more than satisfied in most respects. I have not missed most of what makes California what it is – big. Montana is big but in a natural way. California is also naturally big, but it grew monstrous in its human beehive of activity and all the sorrows that come with that frenzied, pressured pace of living. I do miss the ocean, but I have my Flathead Lake (and no sharks lurking in its waters). I miss the rugged beauty but Montana has rugged beauty in triplicate. I miss my friends – and though I have friends and family here, it will be good to venture into the Golden State in order to see a few, at least, of you. And then come home.

The News is All Good Here Today

Proud Opa: Good News and Good News To paraphrase Abraham Lincoln: many of you already know some of this; some of you do not know any of this; now most of you will know all of this! And, for a wonderful change, it’s all good! Welcome into this world Master Chase Hendrix Kissell, our new grandson born Friday He arrived at 8:01 on 8-01! At birth he weighed 7 pounds, ten ounces and measures 19 ½ inches with tiny wisps of blond hair and apparently built like his daddy. Beth and baby are doing well. Diane and I will be heading for California on the 6th to see him and several of our friends whom we have not seen since we migrated to Montana. We will be gone until the 20th, so contact will be sporadic at best from now until then – but I have not forgotten any of you! So happy birthday Chase! Back into the Golden State I go! Another bit of news: my volume, Charles Sorley’s Ghost, is now also available in paperback through either CreateSpace or Amazon, or soon various other online stores, for the bargain price of just $6.95; ISBN13: 978-1500676520. It is potent stuff and perhaps the most important project I have ever undertaken. And, finally, Leaves of Ink has published a second of my poems, “Purpose,” also on Friday. Check it out at www.leaves-of-ink.com (or keyword Leaves of Ink) and support this fine place for poetry.

New Book In Print: Charles Sorley's Ghost

To commemorate the one hundredth anniversary of the beginning of World War One and the launching of the bloodiest century in human history, I have published a new volume of poems and essays, entitled Charles Sorley’s Ghost. Who was Charles Sorley, you might ask, and why is his ghost so restless? Charles Hamilton Sorley was one of those who have become known as soldier poets, a title attributed usually but not exclusively to British poets who served during World War One. Most of these poets came from upper class families are were commissioned officers. Given the structure of that war, those officers often were in front of their charging men, leading them onward. A disproportionate number lost their lives, among them Charles Sorley. Quickly disillusioned by the nature of this terrible war, Sorley the poet wrote crisp and unsentimental poems that were mature beyond his years. He died early in the war, in 1915, during the Battle of Loos, at age 20. Robert Graves described the battle in which he was killed thus: “It had been another dud show, chiefly notorious for the death of Charles Sorley . . . one of the three important poets killed in the war.” But there were more than three: I found 57 who were killed and more who served and survived. It is easy to forget the horrors of war. Most of us have not experienced them, and hopefully never will. But because we have no direct kinship with War, we tend to ignore, forget, or overlook its rumblings. 187 million human beings have been exterminated in one form or another during the Twentieth Century, and the fighting goes on deep into the 21st. Wilfred Owen said, “All the poet can do is warn. That is why True Poets must be truthful.” With that in mind, and to honor Owen, Sorley and the rest, I offer this volume. It is, I hope, enlightening and thoughtful, and I hope the essays provide information that serves as a jumping off point for each of you. Who cares about people who died so long ago? It is the nature of their deaths that calls to me, and the fact that so many railed against that nature, but surrendered to it anyway. Wilfred Owen was killed on November 4, 1918, seven days before armistice was declared. So, please support me, and pay tribute to them, by purchasing Charles Sorley’s Ghost on Kindle for just $2.99. I hope to have a paperback version available soon, and will post its arrival. This particular project is very important to me, as much for what I learned as for what I wrote, and also for what it all brought me to feel, helping me define my own sense of self on my finite journey across this planet.