Category: Writing

In search of a subtitle

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Most people probably don’t pay attention to such things, but anyone who does may have noticed a couple changes to the cover of What I Came to Say since last month when I announced the title of my next book, which is atop the right sidebar if you’re reading on a laptop or down below my bio if you’re on a “smart” phone or tablet.

(Actually, the latest version of the cover is under the subject line, isn’t it?)

I’m a practitioner of “morning pages” in my journal — three pages of more-or-less stream-of-consciousness writing first thing in the morning to stir the creative juices and get my early-morning thoughts out on paper and out of my system. As you might expect if you have followed me for any length of time, some of Tuesday morning’s musing was once again chastising myself for unfinished business.

For example, it’s two weeks since I decided to devote Saturday’s blog to the ongoing story of Allen the Alien. When I made that decision, I had completed Chapters 4 and 5, and my Tuesday morning self-flagellation was how I had not yet produced Chapter 6 for this coming weekend. For what it’s worth, I wrote Chapter 6 before sitting down to write this post.

I also have started another whimsical little bit of fantastical fluff that I am planning to turn into a series of short podcasts to be released once I have written and produced a “Season 1” of 10 episodes. More on that project if I ever write Episode 2 and beyond, which was another round of self-flagellation on Tuesday morning.

“Where does the time go?” I chided the guy in the mirror. “Down the drain, or rather, to the same place it has always gone and never to return, never to be changed, all those present moments squandered. The fruit of the spirit is blah blah blah blah and self-control. Self-control is last on the list but still a fruit of the spirit, and yet I can’t seem to stop myself from having another snack, watching another YouTube video, playing another game of computer solitaire, or catching another episode of whatever I’m binging.”

I reminded myself of the words of my poem and song “I’m Not Done”: “I still have things to say and I don’t know how I’ll say them, but sure as I feel, I feel that I’m not done.” And I reminded myself that I wrote a song called “Refuse to be Afraid” 30 years ago, which became the title of a book 16 years ago, and that I wrote my most well-received short story, “Wildflower Man,” 30 years ago, and I have made precious few attempts to bring those creative efforts to a wider audience in the meantime.

At this point I was about to bemoan my constant tendency to whining and self-flagellation without follow-up, when I caught myself and remembered the whole point of morning pages is to flush out the negativity and put myself in a better place for creative exploration. 

“If I can exorcise these demons, recognize them as the demons they are, and sail past them, maybe I can say what I came to say, figure out how to say them, and build myself what legacy I can build in the time that’s left.”

“Making the most of the time that’s left” — I realized that’s the best candidate for a subtitle I’ve been able to conjure since I settled on a title for the book. And so that became the second tweak to the cover since I unveiled it last month — the first was to pull back the focus of the illustration from the black-eyed Susans to the guy taking the selfie, and the second was to add the subtitle. 

No doubt there will be further tweaks as the project draws nearer to publication, whenever that may be. At this point my publication date is “sometime before Christmas,” and my next goal is to make that a little more specific. 

Here’s how I finished my Tuesday morning pages:

“I have points to make, songs to sing, and stories to tell, and this morning I have the ambition to get started and get going. I so prefer this version of me to the one who struggles with melancholy and indolence. How do I bury that guy and fly with this guy? Probably by acknowledging they are the same guy, bearing with the sad lazy guy and encouraging the whimsical happily driven guy to take the wheel, with God’s help.”

It was a good start to the day. I did mention I wrote “Allen the Alien,” Chapter 6, before I sat down to write this post, didn’t I?

Allen the Alien, Chapter 5

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The meeting proceeded with much fanfare and an air of celebration — it is, after all, not very often that anyone receives an invitation to join an interplanetary federation — but Allen felt he should seek out Tommy afterwards.

He brought his aide, Trisight, along and found Tommy sitting on a nearby park bench.

“Thank you for helping us, young one, but I can’t help but notice you still seem to be unhappy.”

“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “I’m not sure you should trust Ellie.”

This surprised Allen. “It was not very long ago that you were saying I am the one who can’t be trusted.”

“I know, and I guess I kind of like you now that you admitted you’re an alien and all. It’s just that Ellie has a way of promising things that sound great but don’t come true.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh, she’ll say everyone should vote for her and everything will get better, and what do you know, they don’t get better.”

“I see,” Allen said, exchanging a glance with his silent aide.

“So when she says she’s real happy to join your federation, I’m not sure she’s telling the truth,” said Tommy.

“Why wouldn’t she be happy?”

“I don’t know. I think she likes to be the boss.”

“Our federation doesn’t have bosses,” Allen said. “We leave each planet alone to follow its own path.”

“She’ll probably want to boss you around anyway. It’s what she does.”

“That can’t happen,” said Trisight, breaking his silence.

“Doesn’t mean she won’t try.”

Allen thought about this news. “We will proceed with caution,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Tommy asked.

“We will be careful about giving Ellie an opportunity to try to boss us around,” Allen said.

“Good idea,” Tommy said. “Just don’t let her know I warned you. She can get crabby with people who get in her way.”

Just then Ellie appeared with Count Duckula at her side. 

“My!” she said. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Of course not,” Allen said. “How can we help you?”

“I want to know more about how your federation works,” said the smiling duck leader. “If we wanted or needed something to be done, how would we go about getting it done?”

“I gotta go,” said Tommy, and he scooted away.

Ellie looked at Count Duckula. “Be a dear and follow him.”

“Why?” Allen and Count Duckula said together.

“To — make sure he gets home safely, of course.”

Trisight stepped forward to stand at Duckula’s side. “I will join the count so that you two can have a chat.”

This did not appear to please Ellie, but she agreed, and the two sidekicks followed after Tommy.

“Now, Allen,” Ellie said with a big smile. “About my question …?”

Continued next Saturday

We must keep on singing

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A generation of baby-boomer entertainers has been leaving their earthly vessels in recent years — Dolly Parton, Jaye P. Morgan and Tim Curry all left the other day.

We must brace ourselves as so many other giants like Dolly age — we all know who I mean — and when they go, it will be another series of body blows to our collective psyche. My generation produced some great songwriters and unforgettable songs — no brag, just fact.

Willie, Bob, Paul and Ringo, Mick and Keith, Joni, Judy, Paul and Art, Carole, James — and others I’ve forgotten at this moment — Their recordings are their legacy, and we will always have the recordings, Lord willing, to remember them and carry on.

We live in a wonderful world that feels a little heavier today, because Dolly lifted us all up and she isn’t there anymore. I guess it’s up to us to keep that light shining.