The fruits of 2022

Here’s what emerged from my little publishing endeavor during the year that’s coming to an end this week. In order of publication, they are:

Song of the Serial Kisser: A Make Phoenix Adventure (ISBN 9781737349983), by Warren Bluhm. A new edition of the 2013 novelette in traditional paperback size. Published Jan. 6, 2022, it taught me that literally no one wants to buy a 52-page paperback.

The Demi-Gods (ISBN 9781737349976), by James Stephens, #5 in the Roger Mifflin Collection series. Mr. Mifflin, the feisty proprietor of The Haunted Bookshop, said you should try this book “If you need ‘all manner of Irish,’ and a relapse into irresponsible freakishness.” From 1914, one of the most peculiar novels I read this year. It was fun.

The Story of My Heart (ISBN 9781737349990), by Richard Jefferies, Mifflin #6. Of this one, Roger said it should be yours “If your mind needs a whiff of strong air, blue and cleansing, from hilltops and primrose valleys.” This strange philosophical tome has been received with mixed reviews since 1883; read here a kerfuffle from the pages of a London newspaper in which letter writers defend Jefferies’ “pernicious” book. (The Mifflin books all have early reviews and other extras in the back, for your entertainment and enlightenment.)

Echoes of Freedom Past: Reopening, Reclaiming and Restoring Liberty (ISBN 9798986333106), by Warren Bluhm, is the first of two new books in 2022. This is a little book about what used to be, what is, and what could be if we wish to reclaim it. The encouraging bit is that this was the best seller among my 2022 books. The discouraging thing is that I’m still waiting to sell my third-dozenth copy. The bottom line is sometimes you have to put a book out there and wait patiently for it to find its audience.

It’s going to be all right (ISBN 9798986333113), by Warren Bluhm, is the second new book of the year and my second-best seller. Lesson learned: You guys want new books. I’ve taken a note to that effect for 2023. This book has a simple but powerful message: Never mind that the world is scary and raging; if you reach inside to a calm place, you’ll find the most basic of truths: It’s going to be all right. Oh, change is inevitable, and tomorrow will not look like yesterday, but it’s going to be all right.

Air Monster (ISBN 9798986333120), by Edwin Green, a 1932 “boy’s adventure” about the world’s mightiest dirigible. Since it has been available for less than 10 days, the jury is definitely still out on this one, a fun relic of the days of early aviation.

I wanted to publish more than six books in 2022, but the good news is that I published six books in 2022, including the 11th and 12th with my name on ’em as author. Check them out; maybe there’s something in there for you.

Planning to plan a planner

Dickens City © Bob Suir | Dreamstime.com

Something about the approach of Jan. 1 makes us set goals and resolutions and make plans and bold proclamations.

I have begun to shift back toward keeping my goals and resolutions to myself, without proclaiming them. There’s something to be said about the idea that revealing one’s plans releases some of the tension that is better released in the direction of finishing the project.

I started my blog writing streak deliberately but without telling the world what I was doing until after I had built up some momentum.

A few days ago I wrote the first two chapters of a five-chapter novelette that I had been mapping in my mind for more years than I can remember. I thought about posting them immediately, but I’ve come to realize that sharing prematurely expends some of the creative energy that is best spent creating.

So do I tell what I’m hoping to accomplish in 2023? Or do I just accomplish it?

Is it more important just to keep writing, and not have a specific quantity in mind — not “I’ll aim to write a short story a week, a novelette every month, a novella every two months, four novels in the space of the year”?

And why am I having these thoughts on Dec. 27? Why didn’t I set goals and resolutions and make plans on June 11, to pick a random date? After all, my blog streak began one Aug. 1, so why does anything besides 2023 have to begin on Jan. 1?

Instead of getting down to planning, maybe the best course is to get down to doing.

I Heard the Bells

It was a lovely Christmas weekend with family and rest and recharging, and as I contemplated going back to work, a sort of melancholy settled over me.

I found myself thinking of the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem that was reworked into a Christmas carol, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” Longfellow wrote the poem in 1863 during the U.S. Civil War, and despite its optimistic conclusion, the poem’s penultimate stanza remains the money quote:

“And in despair I bowed my head;

“There is no peace on earth,” I said;

“For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

In the final stanza, Longfellow asserts that the living God will see to it that “The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, with peace on earth, good-will to men.” But almost 160 years after it was written, hate is still strong and still mocks the call for peace.

Sometime between Nov. 1 and Thanksgiving Day, the air becomes filled with the familiar songs of the season, singing joy to the world and tidings of comfort and joy. Come Dec. 26 the songs are all packed away and forgotten, and we go back to the nihilism and back-biting and hate-thy-neighbor norm.

And there’s the reason for my melancholy: I’d so much rather press for peace and good-will on earth, and it’s frustrating to see how much power is wielded by the forces who prefer to see us at each other’s throats.

One of these days it would be lovely to see people rise up and just say “no” to the bottom feeders who spend their days building weapons to kill as many people as possible in one fell swoop, who concoct arguments to convince us that certain people deserve to have those weapons trained against them, and who stand by silently while the hate mongers rage away.

How many “nos” will it take to achieve peace on earth? I say we try and find out.