a little disappointed that i didn't make a slightly bigger deal out of this blog in the big fuss over the release of my autobiography. i will say a few things about it, though. this blog is me, with no pretense, all truth, no caps, just rambling straight out of my fingers as i type. to some degree, dressing it up is pretense, so it goes against my nature, and it even skips my mind as something i 'need' to do. yes it might be good for publicity; after all, the more i put myself out there, in general, the better i do. and yes, i see the stories that are buried deep within this blog as backing up the truth of the rest of it. it's actually a pretty well-documented life.
i am having issues with truth vs. fiction in general in that it has been maybe ten years that this autobiography has been almost done, and i've tried hard to make it truthful and put everything in it, and in the process have lost the joy of just creating fiction from the things i hear and from my mind in general. it's like i can't do both things at once. i am used to multitasking to some degree, having five or six projects going on at once, but with this it's taken over the landscape and i can hardly breathe until it's totally done. even now there are a few crucial typos that i have to fix and meanwhile the first run has gone through and a number of people have bought the book with the typos. it's not a huge crime, that a few things came out wrong or didn't make sense, and it's only a few books as i'm still not a million-seller these days. but what it means is that it's not totally done to the point i can put it behind me.
as for this blog, i'm actually proud of it even in the ramshackle condition it's in. i see that it's advertising the crime stories book on its template, and that's what, about eight years old, but is still one of my most inspired books of stories, so i hesitate to just take it off there and replace it with tall corn state or one of the others. i love the long list of dates at the bottom of the template - testament that it's been doing its service for many years. family pictures need to be updated - that's a common thing and one i need to keep tending to anyway but tend to get to when it gets cold and time to be thinking about the holidays. in general it limps along as usual. now that i keep track of all my blogs i consider this one on top of the rest as it gets by far the most visitors and i think that first, some of them are me, and second, the vast majority look at these small letters and just turn away. they're not about to sit and read my ramble.
but yes, it's me, with the same name, as regular as i can get it, and some times like now, it's all the writing i can muster.
i've been suffering dizzy spells - something like three in the last three days. two were almosts - staved off by having medicine with me and taking it right away. in short the world feels unsteady as i look out at it from my eyes. i can't be sure i see where the road is when i walk and i feel like people can tell when they watch me and get slightly threatened by the appearance that i'm drunk. i mean no harm - i just can't walk that steadily - but i don't even like to be out there walking when i'm not sure where each step is taking me. it's not painful, but it's unpleasant, and i start grabbing things like handrails to keep a steady path. the medicine actually helps so i've taken to keeping it with me in the days just in case.
this makes it more urgent, in my opinion, that i get to doing the third of the big three projects. the first was the novel, the second, the autobiography; there were three i wanted to do before i die. the third is the language book. to some degree it takes more focus and concentration but, like the others, it's already half done. but there are a lot of others i'm also inclined to pursue and i haven't totally decided.
in the leverett series there's another that's almost done: prairie leveretts - about my great great grandfather, who was on the 1600-mile stagecoach ride as a four-year-old, tried to settle southeast nebraska during the civil war, settled a farm in wisconsin and then moved out to the prairie to settle in sioux falls, south dakota, only to have the last of three huge panic/depressions wipe out south dakota and its chance of becoming a bustling settlement area. this only represents the high points of his life and his wife was with him every step of the way, along with the six of his surviviving kids of whom the fourth was my great grandfather. there's a little blip in the story where, toward the end of his life in the early days of the century, his youngest son has him come visit out in california one winter, sunnyvale to be exact. and his wife has been complaining all along about the cold plains winters being hard on her respiratory conditions and i think she's a driving force in their taking winters and getting out of them once they can. at the beginning of the century people now have cars and are a little more used to just going somewhere if they really need to, and california is a place where most midwesterners at least know someone and can have a place to stay when they get there. so they do it and go to sunnyvale for the winter, and what happens but the great california earthquake - they are there and experience it.
because i had so much fun with my first novel i am now hungry to produce the second, which will be about texas, but that's where i'm stuck with writer's block. that one is about half done too, but it stalled for lack of a good finishing plan that turns the plot just right and says something i want to say. i didn't quite map it out enough before i started and, as a result, it stalled. it's a common pattern for me unfortunately.
and finally something is driving me back to the puritan ages where i have lots of ancestors sitting back there seething and waiting to have their stories told. they don't mind if it's fiction or non-fiction but of course i'm stuck on that fence anyway and can't seem to work it out. it's not like i've ever had a problem just saying what it was or combining them when necessary - it's just that sometimes it's hard to get a true fiction off the ground when i am caught up in the reality of it.
and there's more, too, believe it or not.
i am having issues with truth vs. fiction in general in that it has been maybe ten years that this autobiography has been almost done, and i've tried hard to make it truthful and put everything in it, and in the process have lost the joy of just creating fiction from the things i hear and from my mind in general. it's like i can't do both things at once. i am used to multitasking to some degree, having five or six projects going on at once, but with this it's taken over the landscape and i can hardly breathe until it's totally done. even now there are a few crucial typos that i have to fix and meanwhile the first run has gone through and a number of people have bought the book with the typos. it's not a huge crime, that a few things came out wrong or didn't make sense, and it's only a few books as i'm still not a million-seller these days. but what it means is that it's not totally done to the point i can put it behind me.
as for this blog, i'm actually proud of it even in the ramshackle condition it's in. i see that it's advertising the crime stories book on its template, and that's what, about eight years old, but is still one of my most inspired books of stories, so i hesitate to just take it off there and replace it with tall corn state or one of the others. i love the long list of dates at the bottom of the template - testament that it's been doing its service for many years. family pictures need to be updated - that's a common thing and one i need to keep tending to anyway but tend to get to when it gets cold and time to be thinking about the holidays. in general it limps along as usual. now that i keep track of all my blogs i consider this one on top of the rest as it gets by far the most visitors and i think that first, some of them are me, and second, the vast majority look at these small letters and just turn away. they're not about to sit and read my ramble.
but yes, it's me, with the same name, as regular as i can get it, and some times like now, it's all the writing i can muster.
i've been suffering dizzy spells - something like three in the last three days. two were almosts - staved off by having medicine with me and taking it right away. in short the world feels unsteady as i look out at it from my eyes. i can't be sure i see where the road is when i walk and i feel like people can tell when they watch me and get slightly threatened by the appearance that i'm drunk. i mean no harm - i just can't walk that steadily - but i don't even like to be out there walking when i'm not sure where each step is taking me. it's not painful, but it's unpleasant, and i start grabbing things like handrails to keep a steady path. the medicine actually helps so i've taken to keeping it with me in the days just in case.
this makes it more urgent, in my opinion, that i get to doing the third of the big three projects. the first was the novel, the second, the autobiography; there were three i wanted to do before i die. the third is the language book. to some degree it takes more focus and concentration but, like the others, it's already half done. but there are a lot of others i'm also inclined to pursue and i haven't totally decided.
in the leverett series there's another that's almost done: prairie leveretts - about my great great grandfather, who was on the 1600-mile stagecoach ride as a four-year-old, tried to settle southeast nebraska during the civil war, settled a farm in wisconsin and then moved out to the prairie to settle in sioux falls, south dakota, only to have the last of three huge panic/depressions wipe out south dakota and its chance of becoming a bustling settlement area. this only represents the high points of his life and his wife was with him every step of the way, along with the six of his surviviving kids of whom the fourth was my great grandfather. there's a little blip in the story where, toward the end of his life in the early days of the century, his youngest son has him come visit out in california one winter, sunnyvale to be exact. and his wife has been complaining all along about the cold plains winters being hard on her respiratory conditions and i think she's a driving force in their taking winters and getting out of them once they can. at the beginning of the century people now have cars and are a little more used to just going somewhere if they really need to, and california is a place where most midwesterners at least know someone and can have a place to stay when they get there. so they do it and go to sunnyvale for the winter, and what happens but the great california earthquake - they are there and experience it.
because i had so much fun with my first novel i am now hungry to produce the second, which will be about texas, but that's where i'm stuck with writer's block. that one is about half done too, but it stalled for lack of a good finishing plan that turns the plot just right and says something i want to say. i didn't quite map it out enough before i started and, as a result, it stalled. it's a common pattern for me unfortunately.
and finally something is driving me back to the puritan ages where i have lots of ancestors sitting back there seething and waiting to have their stories told. they don't mind if it's fiction or non-fiction but of course i'm stuck on that fence anyway and can't seem to work it out. it's not like i've ever had a problem just saying what it was or combining them when necessary - it's just that sometimes it's hard to get a true fiction off the ground when i am caught up in the reality of it.
and there's more, too, believe it or not.
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