Lost for Words

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I had heard it was possible but never truly believed it could happen to me.

No, not erectile dysfunction.

Writers block.

A total lack of not just the ability to write but the lack of desire to even look at the keyboard.

I spent so much time in the preparation of my book that I actually burnt myself out on the words I had written.

Much like anyone that has ever been on a hardcore diet and then realized they like pizza more than they kale, I let myself get out of the routine of writing.

I watched as the stats exploded for no reason on my fiction blog and spent days trying to figure out why.

I got sidetracked by the first bad review my book got. The words stung like the worst case of razor burn you’ve ever had on your genitals.

So I went back to the beginning. Putting pen to paper. Writing notes and details for stories that had been rolling around in my head for far too long. Stuff that will most likely end up on my fiction blog but writing begets more writing.

Hopefully, you all stick around while I find my path back to getting my junk frozen to stuff.

Here’s to My Big Opening….

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If you have been following my blog for any length of time you might know that I have a book coming out.

I may have told you about it once or seventeen times.

I have made some copies available to reviewers and so far the response has been overwhelming. I feel like Sally Field at the Oscars screaming “You like me…..you really like me….”. I have been trying to figure out other ways to get this glorious tome of personal debasement into as many hands as possible but it’s not as easy as you might think.

So I took the plunge and decided that all those non ebook loving people out there should also have the chance to get their hands on my junk the same as everyone else.

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So in a box perched uncomfortable close to a Guinea pig cage right now are the very first print copies of Cougars, Cookies and Construction. If you look for it on Goodreads there is a give away deal to be the first of my fabulous followers to get their very own copy.

In the very near future (as in as soon as the unreal nature of actually holding the book in my hands becomes not so surreal and I proof the thing all over again for errors), it will be available for order.

On December 8th, the ebook is available on Amazon so get your copy here –

Cougars, Cookies and Construction

Tell your friends, like it on Facebook, and follow it on Goodreads . Most importantly, grab a copy for yourself.

How to Publish Your First Book in 1,975 Easy Steps

 

 

When I started writing this piece about a week ago it was this beautifully esoteric piece.

It talked about climbing the ladder one step at a time.

How doing anything one small step at a time makes it seem much less difficult.

Truth is, that’s just not me.

I am  more a musically themed entrance kind of guy.

And so, after months of wringing my hands, begging for help and tons of work I didn’t think might ever amount to anything, I am ridiculously proud to unveil my first book.

Ladies and gentlemen, introducing….

Cougars, Cookies and Construction – The Things I See Up Here

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The first ebook created from the stories found here but with some insanely funny new stories and the only place to find the amazing final chapter of the “Dildo Factory” series –

The Dildo Factory – Episode 6 – The Return of the Vibrator

The ebook is available for pre order now with a release date of December 8th, 2014. Click on the link or cover art provided by the brilliantly talented Emelie Rouge.

For you non Kindle types, the print version will be available by mid December. Sneak Cover Peek!!!

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So buy it, share it,review it, buy a copy for your eighty year old grandma to read out loud at the nursing home.

For anyone interested, review copies are available in exchange for a review on the Amazon page. Gotta get those stars on there some how.

Thank you to all of you for being patient while I figured out this process. I really am not kidding that it takes about 1,975 steps. I hope you enjoy the results of the work.

Best Intentions

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When I decided to scale back my blogging after nearly two years of writing daily, I did it with the best intentions.

I knew I needed what small amount of time I actually have to write to focus on getting the text for my book perfect and the cover art crisp.

I set up writing platform accounts and made contacts to get it reviewed.

And then I waited.

Like the worst sort of child holding his breath for some minor thing.

I let my life go on around me.

I still read and commented on other writers daily but was so consumed with my drive to get my book ready for publication that I let the one thing that got me to this point slide.

I forgot how to write.

I put out some longer fiction pieces on my fiction blog but completely let my own story grind down to the barest of essentials.

Eat, work, gym,run,sleep. That was basically the routine I let myself fall into.

I sat staring at a blank page or a half-finished post almost daily with every intention of finishing it.

Tomorrow or the next day, I would tell myself all the while knowing that until I could put the work of publishing behind me.

But every day I focused my time on publishing put me closer to being able to get back here.

Best intentions don’t get things accomplished but plans do.

So my plan is to do everything I can to post something here every week.

It may be short. It might be nonsensical. But it will be here.

 

Milestones

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Time is such a fleeting thing.

The average writer usually writes for around a year and a half before they realize that they have no more words to say. That the story they set out to tell has finally been told. They move on to different things almost always with the plan to someday start up writing again but few seldom ever do.

So to reach the two-year anniversary of my auspicious beginnings as a writer, for me, it’s a true remarkable thing.

After the failure of my first writing efforts and my inability to get published, I didn’t know if there was much point in continuing. Yet, here we are now, two years later and I am still striving forward. Not as much here for the time being but still writing none the less.

I have always believed that it is the journey that changes you and not the destination. The last two years of my life are proof of that. I have met some amazing people through my writing. Some changed me for the better, some broke my heart more than I thought was humanly possible and some even kept me sane in what had to be some of my darkest hours.

So, to all 1,257 of my followers I say “Thank you”. Even the ones who got suckered into following me by the piece that got Freshly Pressed only to find out I leave dildos in mail boxes and get caught taking a dump behind a garden shed and blaming a defence less dog.

Even though I don’t spend as much time here as I used to, my time is being put to good use and hopefully in the very near future you all will see the results.

 

The Finish Line

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To say my life is busy is an understatement.

Over the last seven days, I have been either directly or indirectly involved with twenty-one baseball games. Mediated disputes over players. Eaten more white bread in the form of hamburger buns than I have in the past year. I have another week of games ahead followed by end of season meetings.

I have finished a job on a house that will forever be known as “Nightmare Mansion” based solely on the fact that the physical effort of finishing it nearly killed my whole team.

I have helped edit a piece of someone elses work when they were struggling to put its pieces together.

I have exercised less than I have in months and eaten worse.

So, I have been forced to make a decision.

Since the first day I started writing here, through the demise of my first blog, to getting featured on Freshly Pressed, I have held on to the goal of publishing a book in some format or another.

To that end, I will be taking a break from writing here until I have the book at least in the hands of my editor.

I have no desire to turn this place that I have laboured over for this long into a place where I simply whore out my book when finished. I will still be writing here but on a limited basis until the book comes out.

In the next few days, I will be unveiling the cover and the titles of the two super secret bonus stories I have written exclusively for the book.

Be excellent to each other.

 

The Anti-Bucket List

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 Ever since Morgan Freeman made that far-fetched movie, everyone has been using the term “Bucket List”. It’s become some mystical and unattainable list of things that people keep adding newer and more expensive things to that they will likely never accomplish. I usually try to be open to new experiences and not limit it to a simple list.  To be sure, I have things I want to accomplish but the list is short. Swim with Great White Sharks in Australia. Publish my first book. See Motley Crue in concert one more time.

That’s it.

As I said, anything else that I accomplish on the way to those dreams is just extra cheese on my pizza. Instead, I tend to focus on the things I have no intention of ever trying or trying again as it would be.

My Anti-Bucket List.

1. Cannibalism

In the heat of the moment I have eaten ass but I don’t think I would ever want to do it as my sole means of survival.

2. A vampire facelift

No one needs to relive the Twilight era with my white face leading the charge. I have been told that my ass is white enough glow in the dark but I don’t believe it.

3. Inseminate pigs

I grew up on a farm and as such am no stranger to what happens on Dollar Draft night at the Slop Bucket Saloon but I really can’t see me ever wanting to inject a porker with any type of fluid. Even for the sake of more bacon.

4. Get a full face tattoo

This does not include getting matching facial ink with Mike Tyson as that would be unbelievably bad ass. No one would ever mess up my Moccachino at Starbucks again in fear of me biting their ear off.

5: Eat a local delicacy. Anywhere.

I paid the price for an early morning Coney Dog on a five-hour drive home from Port Huron, Michigan. My apologies to the bathroom staff at the London “On The Run”. As well as the elderly gentleman who offered to get me a Popsicle to sit on for the way home. Apparently its quite soothing.

6. Have my foreskin back.

I have gotten along thus far quite well without it and the process of stretching the skin of my penis back to the shape it would need to be sounds like it should be a punishment for robbing old women of their pension cheques with the promise of sex.

7. Practice world champion level streaking in Barrow, Alaska.

If you were to ask any of my neighbours where the bald, naked guy lived they would quite assuredly point you to my place as my proclivity for wandering about in the buff are widely known. That being said the idea of dropping my pants in a place where exposed skin freezes in less than sixty seconds makes me feel bad for my nipples.

8. Organize and video tape an orgy at the local senior center.

Having seen “Human Centipede” and “Two Girls, One Cup”, I think I am rather immune to most images but the idea of that much naked and ancient flesh twerking up on each other like a bunch of pink balloons filled with Cottage Cheese would haunt my dreams for a long time.

9. Help a stranger wipe.

Even with my crippling hero complex there has to be a line that even the Man of Steel wouldn’t cross. I mean should a fifty dollar bill exchange hands I might be prompted to step in but only after a brief discussion of dietary habits and whether or not it was Taco Tuesday.

10. Nicholas Cage.

I am sure there will be more things I add to the list like getting dysentery in a foreign country that has nothing more than single ply toilet paper but for the most part I would rather be open to new experiences. I will just remind myself to stay away from nursing homes on Taco Tuesday.

Shudder.

Rise and Grind

 

Time is the most fleeting of things.

That’s deeply philosophical for a guy that chemicals his pool naked but it’s intensely true.

In my effort to make a living and put the finishing touches on the long-standing dream of publishing a book based on the hilarity found here my writing time is at the barest of minimums.

But a great man once said “I have a dream”.

Mine is simply to sell one copy of my first book.

I stress the word “first”. It is my goal to publish many books but I believe this is a great start.

But there are still days where it feels like a grind. That every word typed is a weight pressing down.

So every morning I listen to this piece of motivation.

It’s important to remember that while you are pursuing your dream others are too. That they will have no problem letting life beat you to your knees and keep you there simply as a means of getting one step closer to the goal than you are.

Writing can truly be a grind.

Especially when you are writing about events that occur in your life.

I purposefully leave out the mundane or boring. I could whine and bitch with the best of them but if that’s what you are looking for I can point you in the direction of several writers who bounce out those kinds of posts daily.

I will still be grinding out my dream. One word at a time. Because there are hundreds of books published daily.

It’s just my dream to make mine the funniest one people have ever read.

So while time may be slipping away it is at least being put to good use.

A lifelong goal accomplished.

One word at a time.

Taking the Plunge

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One of the greatest motivational speakers of this or any generation, Les Brown, lives by one simple motto.

It’s possible.

A little less than two years ago I never would have thought it was possible that I would be writing.

Never thought I would have my first blog fail beyond the point of redemption.

Never thought it was possible that I would start over.

Never thought it was possible that I would write anything that would cause someone to ruin a laptop by laughing so hard they spit coffee all over it.

Never thought it was possible to make it to the Freshly Pressed page.

Never thought it was possible I would get a piece published.

Never thought I would ever get paid to write something.

Something funny happens though when you allow yourself to think about what’s possible.

The reasons you believed you couldn’t accomplish your goals or live your dreams don’t really seem insurmountable any more.

They just become the reasons you work harder.

They become the reason you go without sleep or food.

They become the reasons why when everyone else is out getting drunk around a bonfire, you are still banging away on the keys.

They become the reasons why you start to believe there isn’t anything you can’t do.

I started this blog as a place to share stories so ridiculous that it shouldn’t be funny but still manages to be.

I had no idea where it would take me.

With the help of two phenomenally talented authors, Wendi and Craig, I am working towards my next goal.

Publishing a book.

I had no idea how much work would be involved but if I have learned one thing here its the fact that if you work hard enough, dedicate yourself to a goal and not give up on it you can accomplish it.

 

Open Mic Night

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There is always a moment when I have finished writing a piece that I find myself hesitating to publish it. The same hesitation every performer feels the instant before they begin. Be it a stripper or stand up comic. That moment is always there.

That brief flash of indecision. Is this all I am? Is this the piece where someone finally notices I am not just a collection of dick and fart jokes? Is this the piece that finally tells a story worthy of getting me Freshly Pressed? Is this the piece the one where the laughs end and it all disappears?

It’s that brief moment of holding my breath where the possibilities seem endless. Like the brief moment of “What if?” that we all tell ourselves is possible when we buy a lottery ticket. Dreams of a better life because someone eventually has to win it and the half a heartbeat of malaise that follows when you see the first number is nowhere to be found on your ticket.

Writing is a performance art like any other. It subject to taste and preference as much as painting or singing. Anyone can write in a journal or a diary and keep it to themselves. It takes guts to put a piece of your soul into something and then put it on display.It’s like open mic night at any poetry reading or music show or comedy club.

It’s also scary as hell.

Metaphorically standing in front of all of you with the spotlight on for the select few that read my stuff on a regular basis is like holding a microphone. I can only imagine that a stand-up comic having a set fall flat is the same as having a post bomb. It can be a grind trying to come up with something funny to say every day. To put something down that make people laugh just as hard or harder than they did last time. Comedians take one set on the road and work it over and over but as writers we have to continually produce to keep the interest in our prose at the level it’s at or even higher.

It’s a very frustrating thing and there have been times I have been tempted to take a different tack. I made a conscious choice in my writing to write humorous tales sprinkled in with some drama and real emotion. The reason was always quite simple.

It keeps me sane.

If I didn’t laugh at the things that have happened in my life, I would likely shut down mentally and become a recluse trapped in my house wearing a hand-woven teal poncho and trying to teach myself to play the mandolin.

I could just as easily write endless stories about how hard it is in this economy to be self-employed. Or how hard it is juggling a business and two active kids who play every sport under the sun. I could whine. I could mope. I could end up painting a mental picture of myself that looks like Tom Hanks in “Sleepless in Seattle”.

I choose the opposite.

I choose to hold the microphone day after day and launch the filthy stories I know people laugh at to the point they spit coffee on laptops.

Will it ever make me the darling, bouncing baby boy around here? Never.

Does it limit my overall audience? Definitely.

All it means to me is that when I get frustrated with my musings or get pigeon holed as The Dildo Guy, I will just have to write twice as hard.

Every performer I have ever met gave up the dream when they stopped believing in what’s possible. When you stop telling yourself it’s possible to get to the next stop on the tour or page in the book, then the dream dies.

I chose the opposite.

I choose to believe it’s possible to get my work into a literary magazine. I choose to believe its possible to publish a book. I choose to believe that I can turn a collection of my stories here into a script worthy of being filmed by Kevin Smith if he wasn’t such a narcissist.

Is any of that going to happen? I don’t know. But it’s possible.

All I have to do is keep picking up the mic.

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