The Writer Rambles on About Writing and Visits a Few Other Topics

Margot Robbie Who is Not Mentioned in this Post

Writing a novel is not easy. Writing a good novel is especially difficult. Finding someone to publish your novel is a gargantuan task. But I persist. I’m writing number four now. Actually it’s five if you count the one I wrote a few years ago that I don’t know what to do with. Actually it’s number six because there was one I wrote about thirty years that is now lost and wasn’t all that good to begin with. I’ve started one other that I may or not get back to someday but that surely doesn't count.

I love writing novels and only wish I’d started earlier in life. I always meant to but things kept getting in the way. Working for instance. Much of it as a teacher. There was also the matter of raising children. When your offspring are young they can be time-consuming. No complaints from me. I enjoyed every minute of it. Now they’re grown and because of the type of people they are I have further evidence that it was time well spent. That I didn’t make a mess of being a father and indeed was rather good at it (I think so, anyway, I’ve never been told anything to the contrary) is a singular accomplishment. Combine that with being a good husband and what else do you need? How about a published novel? That would be the proverbial icing on the cake. It’s been a life well spent — so far — but a published (and I don’t mean self) novel would be a crowing achievement. When autumn comes I’ll resume trying to peddle number three.

I had a friend once who said he didn’t like the word “autumn.” An odd word not to like if you ask me. Especially since it’s so highly thought of. I prefer it to fall which has, as well all know, another meaning. Autumn has no other meaning, Just the season. I believe many people actually find it a particularly nice word. Not like plenary. That’s an ugly word. It makes you want to avoid a plenary session. Don’t care for template either or a similar word, boilerplate.

The friend previously mentioned was a devout Christian. We managed to get along just the same. He spewed a lot of bollocks about the rapture coming fairly soon. That was nearly fifty years ago and I’ve seen nary a sign of it. He also speculated that Henry Kissinger was the antichrist. Kissinger was indeed a no good son of a bitch and a war criminal but he was no anti christ. Then again, who is? Best as I can tell there isn’t one. Silly nonsense most of this religious stuff. I’m always amazed when I hear tell of sane, otherwise intelligent people speak of the power of prayer. Muttering under your breath or trying to send messages to a supreme being via some sort of nonexistent telepathy has never moved the needle on anything. Oh sure it might provide comfort to the person offering the prayers, might give them a sense that they’re doing SOMETHING but to act is if they have an outside impact is — here is use that word again, silly. 

Christian or no, he was a decent bloke. When I first met him he was married with a three-year-old son. They went to an Assembly of God church. Speaking in tongues was one of the features of their services. He was a regular on Sundays. Not so much his wife. She talked the talk but when it came to it didn’t go to church on the regular. Hypocrite. She ended up leaving him for a man who had something he couldn’t provide — a lot of money. Poor guy slaved away at a job to send her on trip — alone — to Europe. (That’s either love or stupidity.) She came back with a tan and notice that she was filing for divorce. He kept custody of the boy. So it went.

Anyway I have fond memories of him. Except for him not liking the word autumn. Come on.

Speaking of words I believed I recently mentioned that no one uses “sharp” anymore when referring to a time as in: "be there at six o’clock sharp.” Times are never “sharp” anymore. But sharp also used to be used like this: you look sharp. Where’d that go? Maybe it’s because no one bothers to look “sharp” anymore. Most people, particularly men, don’t give a flying fuck what they look like. Shorts and a tee shirt and sandals with no socks are so often the uniform of the day. I’ve seen people go out to eat wearing track pants. Hardly anyone wears a tie anymore. Sports coats are virtually non-existent. If it’s cold men put on a hoodie.

No one has any style anymore. Clothes are functional. I don’t get it. I’m especially appalled by how many men decide we need to see their feet. Men used to only wear sandals at the beach. Beatniks wore them. You see people wearing sandals when it’s raining. That’s less a matter of being lazy and more a matter of being fucking stupid. Cover those feet up. Nobody wants to see them.

Look at this I’ve gone on another tangent. Talk about being someone you don’t want to get started. That’s me. I do go on.

Soze like I was saying. Novel writing. Number four in progress. Halfway through the first draft. Little more than that actually because I’ve written the ending. Now I just need to figure out how to get there. Should be a snap.