Category: Books

Triumph

Yesterday I wrote about my breakthrough Friday morning, when I skipped the part in the middle where I was stuck and wrote the ending to my novelette. (It’s a little more than 9,000 words, so it’s longer than a short story and shorter than a novella, so …)

I’m here to tell you that on Saturday morning, I sat down and wrote the part in the middle where I had been stuck. Except for the inevitable last-minute pre-publication tweaks, the story is finished.

It is the longest bit of fiction to cross my finish line since Talons of Justice, the last Myke Phoenix novelette, in 2014. Yes, I’ve written three times as many words for Jeep Thompson and the Lost Prince of Venus, but my long-suffering novel is not finished yet.

 Saturday was actually a very remarkable day. The mail brought my vinyl copy of Hackney Diamonds, the new Rolling Stones album, which taught me that 80-year-old men can rock and roll just fine. And in the evening I decided to watch Barbie and see what the fuss is all about, and I was blown away the same way I was blown away last year by Everything Everywhere All At Once. Until I can piece my exploded brain back together and process my thoughts, all I can offer there is OMFG.

How I feel about finishing the story is hard to explain. You’d think after a nine-year drought there would be some exhilaration, but it’s more like an exhausted relief. Maybe this is what a runner feels like at the end of their first 5k — I was going to say “marathon,” and then I was going to say “half marathon,” but face it, I just finished a 9,300-word novelette so it’s not like running 13 miles. On the other hand, maybe it’s how a runner feels after coming back from a long hiatus.

I’m dying to tell you more about the story, and no doubt I will in a few days. First I want to make sure this little Christmas present is wrapped up properly in an appropriate package. As Margaret Hamilton memorably said in a different context, these things must be done delicately.

But I’m pleased to report I behaved the way an author is supposed to behave when a project is completed. Young Jeep, who has been rattling around in my brain for several years now, walked up to me after I finished the story and said, “Congratulations, Warren, nicely done. Now me. Right? Now me.”

Breakthrough

I knew it: I just had to execute. 

One of my ongoing projects is a long short story, or a novella, or maybe a novelette. In any case, it has five chapters. Last winter I made it almost exactly halfway through — finished the first two chapters in no time flat — and stalled midway through the third chapter.

About a month ago it occurred to me that I know how the thing ends, so maybe if I skipped over the third chapter for now, I could break the logjam.

A week went by, and two weeks, and then three, and I kept thinking if I would just jump to the fourth chapter … but you know me by now. It wasn’t happening.

Thursday night, I made a pledge: I would sit down Friday morning and plunge into the fourth chapter, and I wouldn’t get up against until I finished — the chapters are about 2,000 words each.

For once, I did what I said I was going to do. I started the fourth chapter and breezed right through it in a couple of hours.

I was having so much fun, I went ahead and wrote the fifth chapter, too.

Yes, you heard right. After writing almost nothing for months, I banged out nearly 4,000 words in one day.

So all of a sudden, I’ve completed the first two chapters, the last two chapters, and half of the middle chapter.

And all I had to do was sit down and commit myself to doing it. How hard was that?

Now, let’s set my sights on getting the rest of Chapter 3 done, and I will have completed my first longer-form fiction project in nine years. It’s barely a novella, not a novel at all, but baby steps, right?

What’s it about? Watch this space for some shameless self-promotion. I have to finish that middle chapter first.

Still going to be all right

I was reminded the other day that it’s going to be all right was released on October 18 of last year. Despite the horrors going on around the world on a regular basis, I still believe that’s true, which makes me either a damn fool or wise beyond my years. You are always welcome to part with a handful of your hard-earned dollars, read the book and decide for yourself, and if you do I will be grateful beyond words.

What struck me about this anniversary is that a full year has passed since I added to my little pile of books by Warren Bluhm and that, with less than three months left, 2023 is so far the first year in five years that I have not published a new book.

The technological advances of the last 15 years have made book publishing practical and inexpensive for everyman and everywoman, a fact that has brought well-deserved disruption to the traditional book industry. For better or for worse, gatekeepers no longer stand between the author and the reader, decreeing what content is worthy to be seen by the world. Yes, a lot of bad books have been unleashed on the world, but you know what? Even the gatekeepers let some awful stuff get out, and there are legendary stories about how they held back some brilliant work for too long.

At the moment warrenbluhm.com has 22 books out in the print-on-demand and ebook world. I wrote 12 of them and edited the other 10 — six books in the Roger Mifflin Collection, three short editions of historical essays, and the 1930s “boys adventure” Air Monster. My to-do list includes setting up a Shopify page so that you don’t have to search for me via Amazon or Barnes & Noble or Kobo or all the other places where my stuff is out there.

That to-do list also includes firing up the assembly line again. I’m in no position to make any announcements yet, but the next five quarters ought to add some titles to the stable, Lord willing and the creek don’t rise. You will be among the first to know, and thank you for stopping by to check.

I love reading, and I love people who love reading, and I enjoy sharing that love. So happy anniversary to my latest book, and stay tuned to hear what’s next.

Still time

As usual on Monday, the WordPress algorithm offered three “Related” posts for people to explore if they were intrigued enough to read further after my musing “Meta Physics.” See them there, down at the bottom of the page, if you read that far?

One of the options this time was a post I posted on Dec. 30, 2021, as I contemplated the year ahead, the waning number of years ahead, and what I wanted to accomplish in the time allotted to me.

The post was called “It is time,” and I riffed off the memorable moment, in the history of this place near the shores of Green Bay, when defensive coach Kevin Greene took talented Clay Matthews aside and told him, “It is time.” Moments later Matthews made the play that all but sealed his team’s Super Bowl victory. It was indeed time to rise to the challenge, and Matthews came through.

That day just before the beginning of 2022, I wrote:

I’m into the fourth quarter and it’s a tie so far, or perhaps a slight lead. I’ve made a touchdown or two, maybe a field goal, but the end is not far away and the W is not quite nailed down.

IT IS TIME. Oh, yeah, I’ve written some books, even sold a few handfuls, I’ve blogged more than 500 straight days, picked up some followers, got a couple dozen email readers whom I rarely regale.

IT IS TIME. What is it I want to say? Entertain – Enlighten – Encourage. Meh. My mission statement/vision consists of three wandering generalities. Let’s be more specific.

I want to encourage people to use their brains and common sense and take initiatives. Encourage people to act with fearless freedom and not let busybodies and bullies run their lives.

I want to enlighten people about what came before – fun but semi-forgotten books and songs and TV and radio, and thoughts like Wallace D. Wattles’ “you are a creator, not a competitor” … 

I want to entertain and give the world adventures, stories that do all of the above and a few thrills and chills and spills — but after every chill a warming, after every spill an ascent.

Those thoughts are a little more focused, and here I sit a half-hour after starting to write, a little hesitant, a little inspired, and not sure what to do next. 

“Just get started.” Who said that?

It is time.

Ah, these 21 months later, much has transpired and I’m still not satisfied with my progress along the way. However, I realize now that dissatisfaction is normal and probably even healthy. Who wants to sit back and say, “Ah yes, I’m satisfied now, I have accomplished everything I set out to do”? At that point, nothing would be left to do except pass on to the great beyond.

Better, I think, to reach the point where I’m called to the great beyond and think, “Well, I had more to do, but I guess I can be content with what I managed to get done.”

That said, I am still a little hesitant, still a little inspired, and still not quite sure what to do next.

And a little voice is still saying, “Just get started.” After 21 months I recognize the voice. It’s me, of course.

It is still time.

On the road to dreaming big

I am working my way a second time through Bob Goff’s book Dream Big, but this time I’m doing the exercises he recommends along the way. He starts with three big questions: Who are you? Where are you? What do you want?

Who am I? A guy who likes to string words and sounds together as melodically as I can. Where am I? Stuck. What do I want? To get unstuck.

In answer to one of Bob’s prompts, “Are there some recurring themes in your behaviors and choices?” I wrote in all-caps, “PEACE. NONVIOLENCE. PUPPIES.” 

Being less glib, I recognize that a recurring theme in my behavior is what Steven Pressfield calls Resistance — a reluctance to move my dreams ahead — to finish my work, to get better at my musical instrument(s), to learn my craft — not so much the craft of writing, but the craft of shipping it out to willing customers (and I keep shaping that thought in terms of “customers,” rather than people who share my love of words and stories and songs. I suspect that’s part of the problem.)

It’s not that I don’t think my stuff is any good — the three novels-in-progress are the best I’ve ever crafted, but something pathological in me won’t finish them. Am I afraid that even my best isn’t good enough for the world? That would be so silly, and I don’t believe that’s the issue.

I suspect I have a touch of agoraphobia. Red was so worried that I might become a hermit that among her last entreaties to me was not to be one. I do tend to retreat into myself on a routine basis. I identified with the character in my friend Linda R. Spitzfaden’s novel The Other Side of Everything who wanted to step outside but was unable to do so for reasons no one could understand.

I want to finish my novels and go out into the world and be the wordsmith and podcaster and novelist and singer-songwriter who have always been lurking in my soul — I want to be Ray Bradbury and Judee Sill and Uncle Warren and Paul Harvey and e.e. cummings. They are in there, bursting to leap out and show the world what they’ve got. “I got the Resistance and I got it bad,” each of them says in turn and then goes back into hiding.

Another unfinished project is that I have struggled to sit down and write thank-you notes to all the people who sent me condolences or came to Red’s funeral two months ago. I wrote a note to myself Sunday night: “GET UNSTUCK. Monday: Write one thank-you note. Write one paragraph of Jeep. Write one paragraph of (other unannounced work in progress). Buy stamps.”

OK, that last one was everyday life trying to sneak back in. Everyday life is my favorite excuse for the recurring theme that I know what to do and I just — won’t — do it. “Yumping Yiminy, Uncle Warren, break out of the damn rut and be who you are!” I concluded my journal entry.

I’m pleased to report that before I sat down to post this Monday morning, I wrote my first thank-you note, I wrote several short paragraphs for Jeep Thompson and The Lost Prince of Venus, and I wrote several short paragraphs for (other unannounced work in progress). It’s not much, but it’s a start, and if I rinse and repeat every day, I think I can start dreaming big again.

So there it is

My shelving-unit exchange the other day had an unexpected side benefit: I found Dream Big by Bob Goff in a pile on one of the units. 

I’d read the book with some interest a couple years ago and set it aside. Then earlier this summer I was introduced to Goff’s earlier books, Love Does and Everybody, Always, and got to know and like Goff a little more completely.

I looked high and low for Dream Big because I didn’t remember taking it to Goodwill or lending it to a friend, so it had to be in my possession somewhere, but I couldn’t find it. I finally decided I did take it to Goodwill — but then, there it was in the large tower of shelves next to my desk. Obviously I never thought to look there.

I’ve already had my mind rekindled. Here’s a bit from the introduction to Dream Big, where he’s talking about how we write stuff in each other’s high school yearbooks:

“Never change” was written in my yearbook by at least a dozen people. It’s the worst advice I’ve ever received. We’re supposed to change constantly — into kinder, humbler, more faithful versions of our old selves. This change and growth happens when we sort out the truth from the lies in our lives.

Ain’t that the truth? Everything changes, and we change along with it all. I think of interactions I had in my twenties and thirties and think, “Who was that guy and how did anybody like him?” I’d like to think I’m a kinder, humbler version of myself by now, although just saying that doesn’t sound very humble.

But the thought is a good one. We should be striving every day to be a better person than we were the day before.

So I’m off to a good start on my second go-round with Dream Big. I’ll tell you how the rest goes.

Rearranging the furniture again

Regular visitors will notice I adjusted the look of this website on Sunday night. Longtime visitors will notice it looks very much like it used to look back when the blog was hosted by WordPress. I’m still with WordPress, of course, but I’m paying to have more control over the content, i.e., no outside ads, for example.

What I always liked about about this theme, other than it’s simple and easy to read, is the sidebar where you can browse older posts and I can post links to my email newsletter and books. Yes, this website is where I share my addled thinking and fragments of creativity with the world, but its main purpose is to give you an opportunity to purchase the books I’ve written, edited and/or published.

Hopefully the daily shameless self-promotion won’t put you off too much; I’ll still be here on the left side trying to encourage, enlighten and/or entertain you, and this part is free. And subscribing to the newsletter only costs you your email address and my occasional invasion of your mailbox, but in return you’ll get Jeep Thompson and the Lost Prince of Venus: Episode 1: Journey to the Second Planet, the first third of my long-promised next novel.

My brain has been focused on rearranging the furniture this weekend. Some dear friends came to visit and de-clog my downspouts so that the summer rains are diverted to where they’re supposed to be diverted instead of overflowing my eaves. And when I saw Summer and Dejah frolicking among the weeds that threatened to consume the hostas, I realized it was long past time to mow the backyard.

All the yard work and furniture rearranging, unfortunately, has put me a little further behind on my day-job tasks than I’d care to admit, so I must leave you with this status report and return to my regular musings tomorrow. Feel free to click around and explore the place, and, if I haven’t said this of late, thanks for stopping by.