Author of The Commons Books
‘We are a long way from anything,’ I told him. ‘Up ahead turn left and we’re fifteen or twenty minutes from Cancún. Turn right and you’ve got a batch of sixty miles of nothing. So who are we seeing, where is he and how do you get in touch?’ — John D. MacDonald, The Lonely Silver Rain
![“[W]ith His Beady Little Eyes”](https://i2.wp.com/michaelalanpeck.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Clear.gif?fit=1%2C1&ssl=1)
“Question: Help! Many years ago there was a TV program called Maverick, which was about two brothers, Bret and Bart. One was played by James Garner and the other by…? It’s driving us nuts. Please try to help. I can see his face, but not his name. Thanks.”
One of my old Televisionary columns. The question was made up to give me an excuse to write about whatever show I wanted to focus on. (I nearly always did that with the first question.) It was about Maverick co-star Jack Kelly, but James Garner’s charm claimed at least half the answer.
Adios, Jim Rockford. No one ever pulled a Firebird J-turn or handed a security guard a stack of phone books, only to then punch the hapless guy in the jaw, like you.
Got a nice gift today from Chicago Sun-Times blogger Sarah Terez Rosenblum: an interview feature in the “Our Town” blog. Not only did I answer questions about The Journeyman, but I was also able to touch upon a topic that’s critical to humanity’s survival and doesn’t get nearly enough attention from the mainstream media: The Island of Misfit Toys.
Much appreciated, Sarah.
I thank you. King Moonracer, Dolly, and The Spotted Elephant thank you. Even the jelly pistol thanks you. He just has a funny way of showing it.
Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
In 1973, a despondent man who’d lost faith in humanity wrote a letter to author E.B. White.
White wrote back.
The condition every art requires is, not so much freedom from restriction, as freedom from adulteration and from the intrusion of foreign matter.
— Willa Cather
[H/T The Passive Voice]
Read a lot of stories, listen to a lot of music, and think about what the stories you encounter mean for your own life and lives of those you love. In that way, you will not be alone with an empty self; you will have a newly rich life with yourself, and enhanced possibilities of real communication with others.
— Martha Nussbaum, quoted on Brain Pickings
At this point, I should consider putting Hugh Howey on auto-retweet:
If you are twelve, and reading this right now, know that I was twelve once, too. I was twelve, and I dreamed of being a writer. I filled composition books with stories, but I never finished them. Part of that was because there was no youth NaNoWriMo group showing me what was possible. And there was no KDP or Smashwords to give me the freedom to turn my stories into books. There was no easy outlet for my rampant imagination. Now there is, but it means ignoring those who say you shouldn’t go for it.
Remember that it’s okay to write and publish just to make yourself happy, to make yourself fulfilled. There will be authors out there, readers, publishing experts, and booksellers who say that this outpouring of unprofessional drek is ruining the industry, which makes me wonder if these same people drive through neighborhoods yelling and screaming at people gardening in their back yards, shouting at them that, “You’ll never be a farmer!” Or if they cruise past community basketball courts where men and women unwind with games of pickup and shout at them, “You’ll never make it in the NBA!”
There is a kid learning to dribble a basketball right now who will go on to play shirts-and-skins, lead their high school to a national championship, get drafted in the first round and make millions, and this is no reason for the rest of us to not go out and experience the thrill of a 3-pointer heaved up and swishing right through the net. There is some parent teaching a child how to grip a putter right now and take aim at a clown’s mouth, and that kid will get a $50 million endorsement from Nike, and this is no reason not to go whack a bucket of balls after work. Implicit in the message that only some people should publish is the stance that all publishing is commercial, it’s all about making money, about being a bestseller, a pro. But that’s not the reason I do it. It isn’t why I celebrate writing and encourage people to self-publish. I’ve been doing both for a long time. So if anyone tells you that you can’t do it, that you shouldn’t do it, that you’ll never make a living at it, I urge you to agree with them. And then go do it anyway.
The full column at HuffPo is definitely worth a read. [H/T The Passive Voice]
‘I’ve reviewed the ninth grade English syllabus and reading list prescribed by the Montgomery County Board of Education,’ he said, ‘And, after careful consideration, I have decided to dispense with it.’
There are many teachers I wish I’d had. This is one.
There are many reasons I love Cowbird as much as I do. This is one.