Pink Bombs and Misguided Gullibility (My Weekend at the Movies)

Hello Friends. Thought I'd dust this blog off and talk movies today since I recently saw two of the three most talked about films and the third I absolutely will not shell money out for because while the overall message certainly has merit, the whole thing feels like a sleazy scheme to extort from the gullible.

I am referring to Barbie, Oppenheimer and Sound of Freedom.  

I probably would not have gone to see Barbie at all had my wife Connie not wanted to go and I drag her to all kinds of concerts and events she isn't enamored with initially so I was happy to spend the time with her and go see something she was excited for. 

Let's get the controversy over the movie out of the way first. It is rated PG-13 so when I see or read complaints from parent's who took younger kids I dismiss them right away. Absolutely no one is advocating for you to take your little girls that still play with Barbies to see this movie so going on about "Evil Hollywood" grooming your kid or ruining their childhood because Barbie says in the movie she doesn't have a vagina and Ken doesn't have a penis.

Guess what? Every kid who has ever played with a Barbie or GI Joe has at some point unpants the doll to see what was underneath so we all knew this fact long before Barbie dared utter it in dialogue. 

This so-called controversy is just another example of people looking to be offended and we all know if you look for something hard enough you will damn sure find it. Get over yourself. 

SPOILER ALERT 

(Skip down below the picture now if you do not want a spoiler)

Seriously this is your chance ...

because if you do not skip ...

You will read about he ending of the Barbie movie.

Okay hopefully I gave enough of a buffer that only people who di not care about spoilers or have already seen the movie are still reading this paragraph. Barbie goes to see a gynecologist after choosing to live as human and judging by my twitter this seems to offend a lot of people and all I can say is there was nothing controversial here. Women need to take care of their health. Yes, this includes their reproductive health. 

The filmmakers was clearly just establishing the fact hat Barbie had become human and therefore did now have genitalia and that requires checkups. There was no mention of birth control or abortion. She wasn't at Planned Parenthood. She wasn't making a political statement there at all. Perhaps the filmmaker wanted to suggest Barbie could now be a mother given the scenes that preceded the visit. But again, there was nothing controversial or political there and acting offended because a woman goes to see a gynecologist is absolute craziness.  Again, get over yourself if this bothered you.

 Spoiler averted. Read freely starting here ...

Moving beyond the much ado about nothing talk of invented controversies the movie was simply okay for me. I give it a 6 out of 10. 

Now there is one big talking point of the movie that is pissing some people off. The movie unabashedly bashed the idea of Patriarchy. But let's face it the people angered by this are the very people benefitting from patriarchy. 

Yes, society has evolved and will continue to do so, but no the patriarchy is not completely in our past. Men have had it far easier than women for ... well ever. Except maybe in Barbie land where Ken has always been an accessory rather than the focus. Because of that the movie was in a unique and great position to highlight both side of this and make some great valid points in a fun manner. And it did for the most part but I think the movie tried too hard especially toward the end. 

Sometimes writers or creators have to get out of the way and trust their words or work to speak but when they reach for a hammer and try to beat the pint in they lose a bit of their meaning and power.

 In this regard Barbie reminded me of Happy Feet, yes the animated penguin movie. Both movies did a good job of making their point but then added unnecessary montages at the end to hammer their point home and in doing so began to feel overtly preachy therefore hitting that "preaching to choir" vibe that never changes any minds. 

Now that said I doubt anyone was going to see Barbie hoping to be educated or enlightened so probably the move was doomed to be preaching to the choir anyway. TI did enjoy the humor but felt like they left a lot of potential for more on the table.  

On to Oppenheimer.

Great movie. 9 out of 10

Going in I expected a dark heavy movie that would leave me sullen afterward. I expected it to be about the problems and difficulties of turning science and theory into a devastating weapon of mass destruction with a side of guilt and regret and yes there was some of that, but the movie was so much more than problem solving and moral dilemmas. 

For me the movie reflected today's politics as much as they did the pasts but not in an artificial or blatantly objective way. History aside, for me this film is about the depths one person will go to  soothe their battered ego and climb to position of power they can use for their own benefit. 

I won't claim to have the depth of knowledge or historical insight to say whether the movie is accurate in its depictions of events. I will say I thought it did a great job of striking balance between obligation of duty and hesitation of heart. There were times I wanted the movie to slow down and take a deeper dive but given the 3 hour run time and the amount of story to tell that was an impossible task. 

The first hour of the film was a bit hectic and left me with thoughts of a story in a blender but the back two-thirds settle in for me and I eventually understood why we had to rush early on. The movie was reverent in tone even when the characters "celebrated' the achievement of their goal. 

The imagery, the acting, the ending all were damn close to perfection. And no I did not leave the theatre feeling down or depressed but rather grateful and relieved.  

Grateful that I had to opportunity to see the movie alongside my two sons and relived by the fact that at least how the movie portrayed these characters that greedy, pettiness, and diabolical scheming is borne out in the annuls of time.  

I hope this is the case because I hate to think a man can go from being humiliated at a White House Correspondents' Dinner for asinine conspiracy theories, to using that shame as motivation for a political career and needlessly setting back our nation fifty years, just to prove his point and make a fast million or ten, while jeopardizing the health of nation and world and ultimately inciting insurrection to try and desperately hold onto power without history mocking him for it.

In this I found the movie Oppenheimer comparable to todays politics and yes the historical significance of the United States developing and deploying two devastating bombs is a somber lesson we all need reminded of nearly eighty years after the fact, but we also must be cautious of the divides we face today and who is exploiting those divides for gain.

This brings me to the other movie in the news.

Sound of Freedom

Haven't seen it. Won't pay to see it.

Before some QaNon 4 Chan zealot labels me one of the Liberal Elite Devil Worshiping  writers of the word let me say I am fully aware that human trafficking exists on a large scale and is a terrible horrible thing that definitely needs more resources and awareness brought to the fight. I myself have an unfinished novel that I've spent countless hours over the years researching so I'd wager I know more about these atrocities than most of the public. 

Do I think the Illuminati/New World Order/Devil Worshipping Democrats are masterminding and profiting from human trafficking on some global scale? NO!

I think the world has all kinds of evil people hellbent to make money anyway they can. Has there ever been a politician or respected leader involved? Almost definitely, because you can find warped and twisted people in any profession, economic sphere, or location.  

This movie could have been powerful but chose to pander to the fear mongering and hateful rhetoric in order to crowdfund and get made. I don't know if they sold their soul to simply to get made or if that was part of the agenda all along, but I do know they have convinced wide swatch of people to buy tickets to multiple showings and that while many showing have sold out most of the seats have actually been empty. 

Here are some links to read some of the reporting over the movie from a variety of outlets.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/conormurray/2023/07/11/box-office-hit-sound-of-freedom-controversy-including-qanon-ties-and-false-claims-theaters-are-sabotaging-screenings-explained/?sh=29dfcac3688c

https://www.npr.org/2023/07/19/1188405402/qanon-supporters-are-promoting-sound-of-freedom-heres-why

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/amc-theatres-ceo-slams-sound-freedom-conspiracy-theories-screening-dis-rcna94174

This gives me the impression that its all been a big marketing ploy. Fear mongering and political signal calling to send a message to "Evil Hollywood" who are allegedly part of this mass Illuminati/New World Order/Devil Worshipping pact of Democrats profiteering from child trafficking. Such utter bullshit ruined any credibility the film might have had for me.

Reading comments from people extolling the virtues of the film has also brough to light a glaring hypocrisy because while they offer loads of hypothetical sympathy for the Honduran father whose children are abducted, most of these same people are quick to scream GO HOME! to immigrants wishing to flee such danger and pursue a better life here in the United States.

The people spending money buying multiple tickets to multiple showings and urging others to do the same to send "Evil Hollywood" a message are also the ones angry that desperate families are gathered at the border trying to find a better life.

And I'm sure there are a select few just trying to support the movie hoping somehow some of the funds find their way to helping victims of child trafficking. TO that I say there are far better way than by supporting these radical conspiracy theorists and greedy profiteers raking in millions by exploiting a real problem.

Here are a few I found ...

https://www.responsiblesourcingtool.org/

https://www.dhs.gov/blue-campaign

https://www.ncptf.org/post/31-ways-to-help-prevent-human-trafficking

Specials Freedom Project

You can report suspected human trafficking to federal law enforcement by calling 1-866-347-2423. You can get help from the National Human Trafficking Hotline at 1-888-373-7888.        

Again I feel like the spirit of the movie and the man it was based are are legit and the cause is worthy of attention and resources but the way the film has been marketed and the asinine conspiracies tossed in without supporting evidence tainted what could have been a powerful, far reaching movie that transcended politics.       

Gray Hair and Powdered Sugar

Been a while since I've chimed in here. There are a lot of reasons for that including the fact most people simply don't take time to read blog posts these days. We are all too busy binge-watching, and skimming social media to truly sit down and read longer forms. Sadly this applies to books as well and yet I continue to write. Though since moving to California the siren song of screenwriting has begun whispering in my ear and little by little I am doing more of that.

Currently I am sitting in a Dunkin Donuts typing this as  the powdered remains of a Bavarian Kreme decorates my beard. The beard is longer these days but also has a bit more of its own white adornment. 

What else is new? Well my latest novel, THE GOOD FORTUNE OF BAD LUCK is out as of yesterday.

    

The novel is available in paperback or eBook. 

I wrote the first words on this book more than twenty years ago so like most of my writing it has taken an arduous path to publication. It is a story if expectations versus realities and how we often initially think of something as bad luck that in the ends leads us to happiness. The characters are everyday people facing everyday problems and this is the heart of who I am as a writer. I strive to be somewhere between the Richard Russo's, Kent Haruf's, Anne Tyler's of the literary world, and the Jennifer Weiner's, Jodi Picoult's, Kristin Hannah's. Meaning I want some literacy sensibilities with strong emotional readability and everyday relevance that is easy to identify with. 

This is what I work to achieve and I am not suggesting I've found the writing success of those talented authors but I am working to get there and I thank all of you who have been walking that journey with e for years now. If you are new here I thank you for that as well. Writing in a vacuum is tough but given how long it takes to create and publish a novel it does often feel like throwing words into the void. 

THE GOOD FORTUNE OF BAD LUCK was born from my own superstitions and strong belief in luck. As I've aged I realize we mostly make our own luck, both good and bad.

I hope all of you have been on the good side of fortune these last few years, though even as I type I think how crazy the world has been for a while now. The politics, the virus, the growing divide among us. I don't know how to fix any of that but I think we all tend to forget our humanity when confronted with things we don't like or agree with. I struggle with this myself and have sadly lost friends I care about in these tumultuous times. They will tell you I cast them aside for political differences, but I disagree. I can debate politics, but I have no ZERO tolerance for racism, bigotry, or intolerance because these are not truly political issues in my mind but rather the difference between good and evil. 

I will argue and debate the benefits of small government versus big government, taxation, and even personal freedoms, but not at the expense of human rights. But I digress, this isn't meant to be that kind of post. Simply freethinking as I type.

My belief is that fiction can help us better understand humanity. It exposes to people different than ourselves. It exposes us to other cultures and places. It exposes us to the emotions and motivations and makes it clear despite these differences we all have the same basic needs and wants and when we are reminded of that we are more compassionate and understanding and that is why reading is so important. Yes even when the story and characters are made up because while fiction is not the truth it is born from humanity, because no matter what you think of we writers (yeah we are a bit weird because we live in our heads so much of the time) we are indeed human. 

This is my longwinded way of asking you to check out the story of Destiny and Dillon and their quest for Good Fortune amid Bad Luck. I hope you will find some heart to their story as well as some insight into your own thinking. The story has been with me for a long time and I am eager to share it with y'all. 

Let's Help One Another

Now that I am a full-time writer my routine is a bit different. used to be I stole time to write. I carried a notebook and wrote by hand in starts and stops. At work, int he park waiting for my son's soccer practice to end, in a variety of doctor and dentist waiting rooms. Then I'd type it all up first chance I had and add more.

At least that is how I did it for fiction. Freelance work was a bit more linear as I'd do the required research and then write the article up usually in one fell swoop.

Over the years my body of creative work has piled up. In addition to the published works and sold stories and articles I have numerous works both finished and incomplete. The toughest thing these days is staying on one project because I often feel like a have the voices of a thousand character whispering in my ear. Characters and projects actually.

And then there is the hunt for new and continued freelance work, because as a full-time writer I can't rely on royalties for books past or the far off splash of future royalties. I know Mr. King and Ms. Rowling do not share this financial problem, but I'd be willing to bet they have to fight off the siren call of other projects in order to finish one.

The ability to finish books separates the professional from the hobbyist much more than talent. I have known some incredibly gifted writers who never once finished a novel.

I say all of this to motivate some, and remind others. Including myself. Finish the damn thing already!

#######

In other, slightly related news, I have started a new blog focused entirely on music. Most content is brand new and what is not has been backdated (some old material from this blog as well as a few of the articles I wrote for other media outlets). Come check it out The Feels.

My goal with this blog multifaceted. I am a passionate and prolific listener of music. Well-written emotional lyrics speak to me far louder than a catchy beat or a flashy exterior. I am not bound to any one genre but I do lean to the Americana, Folk, Singer/Songwriter side of things. A traditional country song is hard to find these days, but I do love a good two-stepping tune if it has heart. Rock, the occasional rap, zydeco, jazz, EDM, Funk, even POP if it has substance. I am picky but not particular so sharing what I feel are worthy songs is something I am compelled to do.

I have been fortunate enough to dabble in some lyric writing with some really talented musicians and I have a notebook full of lyrics that are just waiting for my burgeoning guitar skills to catch up to. I have no desire to sing, but the emotional impact and complete storytelling in a three or four minute window calls to my writer's soul. Sometimes I have a feeling to express that feels wrong for a novel or even short story. So this blog is also to keep my ingrained in the music community.

And last but not least, I hope this blog will bolster my writing income. I am currently writing for another music blog here in LA and they are part of a network that allows them early access to songs. Independent and those on labels. This opportunity comes with some financial gain and I would like to focus my reviews and listens to music that speaks to me, but only a select number of blogs are approved. To get there I need my Alexa ranking to increase as well as my Spotify followers to grow. I would appreciate any help y'all can give me with that by sharing this link on your blogs, websites, or social media.

https://www.atthefeels.com/  

And you can help by giving me a follow on Spotify. There are playlists for most of my books so for those of you that have read them you might find those especially interesting.

 

Jed, The Joads, & Me

I didn't strike gold, or get blown west by dark dust bowl clouds, but in the Fall of 2017 I made pretty much the same migration as the Clampett's, Woody Guthrie, and Faulkner's famous family.

Texas to California

Most people that know would say me and Texas fit together like boots and jeans, but sometimes life takes us all places we never thought we'd go. Sometimes things fall apart so better things can come along, and make no mistake that my life is better out here in Southern California than it was back in the windy Texan Panhandle.

My journey started way back  in the fifth grade but of course I had no idea back then that it would lead me to the Golden State. I met Connie in Mrs. Davis's class. She hadn't gone to elementary school with me before then because she lived in a neighboring district but her old school did not have an Enriched Learners program so she transferred over to Oakdale. We had no whirlwind puppy love romance, but we were friends until her family moved to California our seventh grade year.

More than two decades later we reconnected through the powers of social media. This eventually led to me and my two boys moving west and it has been great for us all.

Food, Funk, & a Few Folks 

I am told I have an accent but if you ask me I sound just like everyone else. Nevertheless, the first question I get asked is, "Where are your from?" Guesses range from Arkansas, to Georgia, Tennesee and often Louisiana probably because I often wear a New Orleans Saints cap. (By the way if you are reading this Roger Goodell you and your corrupt NFL officials all suck. I stick by my theory that the NFL Commissioner caught some venereal disease from a Bourbon Street prostitute during a bygone Super Bowl in the city and has held a private grudge agasint my beloved Saints ever since)

But I digress.

The second question I get asked is, "What do you miss most about Texas?"

My mom tops that list, but she is finally coming out to visit at the end of the month. Friends are also on the list but the power of social media and with a few visits back and forth and it is not hard to maintain those relationships. 

Live Music is not quite the same beyond my cherished Texas dive bars, but I have found a number of cool venues, including The Cave up in the mountains at Big Bear, which hands out warm pork rinds as you wait in line to get inside. 

Little-by-little immersing myself the the Southern California Music scene. I have also been fortunate enough to see Kris Kristofferson, John Prine, and a few other of my longtime favorites that simply do not play in or around Amarillo.




That brings us to food.

Man oh man do I miss Texas cooking. Not always, because I have my smoker and grill and to stoke my own wood box I can cook up some damn tasty meat. Good thing too, because what passes for BBQ out here in California is a damn shame.  

Tex-Mex is few and far between, but the chain Cafe Rio does the subgenre justice and they easily have the best queso I have found in the state.

Californians do love their avocado this and mango that. And for the love of Gad stop putting fruit in sweet tea. Raspberry, passion, watermelon. All of that shit is perfume water not suitable for hydration. McCalisters Deli can you please bring your southern sweet tea to SoCal?

And don't even get me started on quality french fries. The venerable Golden Light Cafe in Old Route 66 in Amarillo, Blue Sky, and Coyote Bluff all serve up a hand-cut style of fry that might as well be a Brontosaurus in California. 

In-n-Out is not Whataburger. I don't hate their small little round burgers, but I have to eat two if I want to be satisfied, And their bland fries are palatable, when dipped in the imported salty greatness that is Whataburger ketchup.

I have railed enough for today, but soon I will be back to highlight the things I love most about my life here in So Cal. 

 

 

Unliked

Years back, I eagerly ordered a copy of a novel. A novel written by a fellow blogger. Not a blogger that I read everyday or that commented regularly on my posts, but a blogger some of my closest friends often touted so I had read enough of her posts to know she was a very talented writer.

And her book was very well written, but man did I hate her protagonists. Both of them. Still finished the novel hoping for character growth. And grow they did ... on my nerves. Oh the arc was there just like it should be a good writing and this was good writing, it was just about people I hated.

I've always felt the same way about Holden Caulfield though I know many people who think of Catcher in the Rye as the ultimate American novel. I suspect those same people voted for Trump, because I imagine Holden grew from that entitled snotty teenage boy to be an entitled pugnacious fool and if you admire those qualities in a human then Trump was clearly your candidate.

Which brings me to this. Reading that novel I realized I did not care for this particular blogger. Her ideals were not shared by me and while I had never articulated that thought until I read the manifestations of her ideals within a fictional character.

No, I am not saying that every character in fiction is a direct representative of the author who created them though this was the case between the blogger and this novel. You will just have to trust me on this as I can't explain without revealing too much or being more longwinded than I already am.

Since that time social media has exploded and now we read a deluge of thoughts and opinions from every one we know. The bloggers I met and read were people I had no prior relationship with so it was fairly quick and painless to know if I wanted to keep reading their posts or not. And it did not really matter if I chose to move on.

This choice is not so easy anymore.

I have had to disassociate from a few long time friends and even some distant family. I do not do so easily, nor do I run from a healthy debate, but some people are looking simply to agitate.  They prefer to poke, prod and belittle rather than discuss or debate rationally. Hate is venomous and every knows it is not wise to play with rattlesnakes. I suppose the bushes have always been full, but now everyone has a outlet to rattle their tail.

Me included. Maybe this post feels like hate and bigotry and you will never again read this blog. If so I bid you adieu, but really I write this because I am curious in this heightened era of divisiveness  have you had to distance yourself from people you otherwise had a relationship with?  And if so what does it take before you make that decision?

       

If It's Good Enough for Cher, Michael Jordan, and Garth ...

... it's good enough for me.

Don't call it a comeback
I've been here for years

Me and LL are cool, so I'm sure the esteemed Mr. J won't mind me borrowing a couple of lines from his lyrics. What I am trying to say here people is that I am once again going to be using this space to speak, share, rant, and ramble.

I tried to use a blog on my dedicated webpage, but the format was cumbersome to post at and even worse for folks wishing to comment or take part in the conversation.

So much has transpired since I last post here, personally and professionally. I will do my best to catch y'all up over time, but we will focus on the latter for now..

I moved out of Texas, and now live in sunny Southern California where I write full-time. Freelance articles of a wide variety, as well as continued work and promotion of my fiction.

I released a new novel WAITING ON THE RIVER which is available in print and ebook and a collaborative collection of shirt stories titled Hemingway that is a companion piece with an album of the same name by musician, Dan Johnson. The stories in that collection expand on the songs while telling a bigger story delving into the humanity of the choices we are all forced to make in life.

I will be back with at least one post a week to catch y'all up and I will also be posting some writing samples that were once published elsewhere but are now unavailable so that potential clients can have a place to read a variety of my work.

Hope to hear from y'all so please take a moment o say hello, ask, a questions, or chime in with a comment.  
 



  

See Ya' There

I am proud of what I did here for over 8 years, but as they say all good things must come to an end.

This blog is now inactive. For new blog posts from me please visit ...

http://www.traviserwin.com/blog 


It is a process but I will be moving the posts that still have relevancy as well as the ones that simply make me smile over to the new site.

Good Beer, Good Music, and Bad Bad Marketing

I'm not going to lie. I am an opinionated person. I'm also pretty outspoken even when my opinion is not all that popular.

I am critical of certain things more than others.

Beer.
Literature.
Music. 
Sports. 
Humanity and basic kindness for others.

In no particular order, these are things I am passionate about. The later at times spills over into politics but don't worry this spot isn't about politics. It is about critics. Like me. Sometimes I think those of us with with staunch opinions are labeled negatively. Sometime we are called snob. Heck, I've even described myself as a beer snob, but I think technically that is the wrong term.

Without consulting Merriam or his friend Webster I will say snobbery strikes me as a bed mate of judgemental and judgemental I am not.

Oh, I hear you skeptics out there. How can an opinionated critic be anything but judgmental?

Easy. Before I pass down my opinion. Before I criticize. I consider one question ... What is the intended audience?

Let's go back to beer. Yeah, I think nearly all the mass produced swill of Bud and Coors and Miller is nothing more than the glorified urine of of their respective CEO. But hey, its obvious there are millions of adoring fans. I mean people have to drink something while they are listening to the corporate manufactured music of people like Luke Bryan and Florida Georgia Line? One bad but shiny and heavily marketed recipe deserves another just as a finely crafted Russian Imperial Stout goes well with a perfectly grilled medium rare steak while listening to some fine tunes by Jason Isbell.

Or maybe you want something a little less heavy. Go ahead sip a good ol' Shiner Bock while you listen to Dan Johnson and the Salt Cedar Rebels regale the fine state of Texas. This duo pairs nicely with a number one combo from Whataburger, or a plate full of Tacos to gain the full Lone Star experience.

I get ticked when companies and artists try to inflate their intended audience by luring in unsuspecting others. Like 50 Shades. I get it. it sold millions of copies, but that doesn't make it good. More people mock it than praise it and that is because some publishing executive decided that eroticized Twilight fan fiction needed to be be thrust hard and deep against every lonely and horny woman in America who is tied down to a job, family, or household. But one kind of bondage isn't exactly like the other.

Sadly the novel has now tainted the erotica genre by draping the finely crafted books under the same pleather hood. Just as people hear the words country music and think Nashville and the whine of Rascal Flatts or the melodramatic moaning of Tim McGraw. Here in Texas country music means Robert Earl Keen and Willie Nelson. Waylon and William Clark Green. People that put emotion above commotion in both their lyrics and performances.

So yeah, while I am of the opinion that the corporate record company music is crap, that beer sold by companies that market their fancy bottle and cans harder than they do the product inside is nothing more than pablum for the masses, that most of the stuff we are TOLD to like and buy is a scam I recognize there is an audience who don't want to learn, explore, try new things. This is corporate America's intended audience. 

And I'm not among them.          
  

Dust Bowling with Vick Schoen

Today I am sharing my blog with Vick Schoen. Vicki and I were critique partners for many years. Through several different groups the two of us wrote on. She has been essential in me becoming who I am as a writer. She has a new novel set in the dust bowl era here in the Texas Panhandle.  

Historical Fiction As It Was Really Lived

In the Texas Panhandle during the 1930s, the hard, cracked earth seemed to turn on the men and women who had nurtured it all their lives. The decade-long drought had rendered the fields barren, susceptible to the constant wind tearing away the topsoil. A tough place to eke out a living. Some folks left. Some died. Some lost their nerve and their hope. But the strongest survived and became the backbone of the area. These are the folks who personified the enduring values of the American West. These are the heroes of Inherit the Texas Earth.

These are the people who joined the Last Man’s Club promising to remain in the area and support each other through the hard times. These are the people who found time to play and laugh and love during one of the most trying eras in American history.

Writing about them was a challenge. I wanted to make my fictional characters strong enough and vulnerable enough to pay just homage to the real players in the drama. And I wanted to acknowledge the land on which they built their futures.

Meet some of the main characters.

Willy Gil Kellogg talking to Gramps as the old man is dying ... 

Gramps lay on his side facing the open windows. An evening breeze was making an unsuccessful effort to clear out the odor of medicinal alcohol and vomit. The western sky glowed with oranges and pinks—the day’s last attempt to keep the night at bay.

“Will, come ‘round over here.” Gramps’s voice sounded small and empty, not the commanding, full resonance Willy Gil had heard his whole life. “Pull that chair up. I got something to say to you.”

“Yes, sir.

“You comfortable, Gramps?”

“Oh, sure.” The old man sucked in a shallow breath of air. “’about as comfortable as a snake in mud.”

Willy tried not to grin—but did anyway. “Grandma says eat some soup.”

“Well tell her I ate it. Make her happy. But toss it out the window. I’d just throw it up.”

Rosemary Fielding on her first morning in Texas ...

Rosemary looked at the wheat ready to harvest, the shack needing repair that would be their home, this plot of land Pa had signed a lease on yesterday claiming, “The good Lord’s wantin’ us to be Texans.” Sharecroppers. That’s what they’d become.

Pa had tried cotton farming and failed. Then he’d worked at the sawmill in Augusta and failed at that too. Now was his opportunity to fail at wheat farming. About the only thing he hadn’t failed at was getting Ma pregnant.

Quan Blackhorse on returning to his family’s abandoned home in the Texas Panhandle ...

Quan sat cross-legged on the floor picturing what had been before the accident. His mom baking bread, his dad coming through the door dirty, tired, and proud. He strained, trying to make his memory retrieve the sounds of the Comanche his father spoke only to him, but it had been eight years. He shook his head. Then he rose and spoke to the air. “I am back, Father. I cannot assuage my guilt, but I will redeem your name. The burden of injustice is now mine.”

The Land

Willy Gil walked the hard, sore ground that was his farm, mourning. Mourning for events that couldn’t be changed and now needed to be put to rest. Mourning for the child and mourning for the family member who killed her. And now the killer appeared terminal.

You can read chapter one of Inherit the Texas Earth at vickischoen.com

Taking Flight with the Thieving Birds

So I had this gig writing for a music magazine. It was fun while it lasted, but we mutually parted ways after having a deep philosophical divide about the musical influence of the late great Waylon Jennings, compared to the bro country babble of one Luke Bryan. I was hired as the Indie music contrarian and they want to now go more mainstream which is certainly their prerogative, but my musical tastes are not in line with that vision and faking articles I am passionate about, is not why I write.

I am proud of some of the stuff I wrote including a few articles that were rejected as too far off the mainstream path. Today I am sharing one such article about a band called the Thieving Birds.


TAKING FLIGHT
by Travis Erwin

From small towns to big cities, they are all the same …

A scratched, dented bar. Stools to perch on. Not too comfortable, but sturdy and more than adequate to take a load off. Off in the corner, the golf video game replays glory shots of games past. Beside it, a man is taking shots, not of liquor, but at pixelated deer with an orange plastic gun …

… the neighborhood bar.

Under the soft glow of neon two men play pool. The clacking of balls a natural accompaniment to the clink of beer bottles. The flotsam and jetsam of conversation rises and falls to just trump the volume of the music. There, in the space between songs you catch a shiny bit of confession not hushed in time.

It is early still. The back corner where the small stage sits, if you can call a few raised planks of plywood a stage, is dark. Waiting.

Most of the crowd came to drink. They'd be just as happy if the band didn't play. Talking over the jukebox is one thing, but they’ll have to shout once the band kicks off.

There are a few of us who came for the music.

But not the rowdy happy hour holdover holding court at the bar. His suit jacket tossed to the side as forgotten as the crappy work day that drove him to stop in for a beer or ten before heading on home. He'll call in sick tomorrow, not really remembering what went down, but neither will he regret the night. Except maybe for the dry cleaning bill to remove the smell of cigarette smoke from his suit jacket. But even that is okay, because hey, he nearly talked that waitress, the one with two inches of tanned flesh showing beneath her Senor Frogs tank top, into going home with him …

… the neighborhood bar.

The band arrives. Checks in at the bar. Everybody but the base player orders a beer, because the bar provides domestic bottles or drafts free of charge to the talent. The bassists doesn't care. He pays for a Jack and Coke because he likes that whiskey burn. Because he needs that moody edge.

The band takes the stage to tinker with their equipment. There are no roadies here. These guys are their own roadies. For that same reason the t-shirt and CD table stand empty until after their set.

This same scene is played out night after night. Could be any bar. Could be any town. Could be any band.

But on this night there is magic in the air.

The Thieving Birds are playing more than three hundred miles from their home in Fort Worth, Texas. They are playing for less than fifty people in a nondescript bar. In a nondescript town. Lead singer and guitarists Ace Crayton looks like Val Kilmer, circa Doc Holiday in Tombstone, but like the band's genre, Crayton's voice is harder to pin down. Smooth entering the notes, but rawer on the exit. Every word packed with emotion. Are the country? Are they rock? In the end it doesn’t matter, because they are just that damn good.

The band has undergone a few changes. Kenny Hollingsworth has taken over at guitar joining Crayton, bassists Rody Molder, and drummer Beau Brauer, but their music is raw, emotional, thoughtful and rebellious somehow. Listening to them is liberating in the way adulthood seldom is. Like a stolen smoke in the junior high bathroom, or that rush of adrenaline the first time you talked your girlfriend into sneaking out the window after midnight. Live and on stage they interact with their audience and are playful between songs. Readily accepting shots from their handful of admiring fans, the band didn’t seem to care how many were in attendance just so long as those in the room enjoyed the show.

And enjoy it they did. In the middle of the set I looked around. The pool balls sat idle, the orange plastic gun dangled from its tether. The happy hour business man took a break from his pursuit of Miss Senor Frog and settled happily onto a not-too-comfortable stool, whiskey in hand. The Thieving Birds had captured the room, taking flight with energy, magic, and talent.

These birds are no doubt headed for greatness and my thoughts after listening to both of their albums (Gold Coast and Thieving Birds) only reinforced that I was lucky to catch them in such intimate terms down …

… at the neighborhood bar. 

   

P is for Plodding

These days I seem have more to say than I do time to say it. Or in this case write it.

It's been a busy hectic summer and fall, but I think the one normal facet of life these days is that none of us have enough hours in the day.

Writing has been going well, despite no obvious evidence to the outside world. I am closing in on finally finishing a novel that I first started some ten years ago. At the time I was a bit intimated by he complexities of the story and its characters but as my skills have grown over the years so has my desire to finish. I have also started another story, this one with series potential that I am really excited about.

Meanwhile I've been doing a fair amount of freelance work for everything from a music magazine, to to football articles, and the exciting world of Femco oil pan drain plugs. A great novel

A few weeks back I had the pleasure of attending and presenting at the Women's Fiction Writer's Association first ever retreat. The event was perhaps the best writer's gathering I've ever been to. Met a lot of great and talented authors and I just finished reading The Perfect Son by Barbara Claypole White . I loved the novel. Deep complex characters that surprised and enlightned from start to finish.  And that ending ... WOW!



I was fortunate enough to get to hang out with Barbara and listen to hear cute cheerful British accent.

She and my wife haggled with the jewelry makers in Old Town while I strolled along and soaked up the cool vibes. I met many other longtime online friends as well as acquired new ones. The talent level was amazing.

Bet you can't pick me out.

I encourage anyone who writes Women's Fiction to check out he group and join. You won't find a more supportive organization.  https://womensfictionwriters.org/

So that's what I've been up to. What about you?

Shine On

This piece first appeared in the 2015 Edition of Top O' Texas Football Magazine.

Shine On

By Travis Erwin

They stand tall, stoic. Day after day they absorb the unrelenting punishment bestowed upon them. Sun beats down on their skin. The wind pushes at them, at least in this part of the world. Rain, sleet, hail, ice-storms and blowing grit attack, but still they stand upright and tall in every Texas town. I am of course, talking about the famed Friday Night Lights that give this state a huge part of its identity.

They are inanimate objects forgotten for most of the year. Yet, they loom large in communities from Texline, down to Terlingua, and on over Tyler way. Whether they tower above small aluminum bleachers, or huge stadiums built and carved into the landscape, they shine down upon our pride, our joy, or hope and our fear. No one wants to lose to their cross-town town rival or that neighboring town.

Friday Night Lights. We flock to them. We feel the power and allure of them. If you’re holding this thick magazine in your hands you can bet they mean something to you. But how many of us ever pause to think what it takes to turn those lights on?

No, I’m not talking about the dude that literally throws the switch prior to game time. I am talking about what gives these lights the magic that draws crowds, inspires books, and creates movies. True magic, not the slight of hand smoke and mirrors of a stage act, but genuine wonder and awe. The stuff of dreams.

It begins on the couch. Father and son watching a Cowboys game. Or on those family trips to Lubbock and College Station for one of those crisp, fall days. Maybe it is a game of catch in the backyard with a brother, a cousin, or that kid down the street. The where is as varied as the colors and mascots of the many teams that line up to play each Friday night, but there is one common thread … it begins with a love of the game. The sound of a crowd, the feel of the leather, the rush of competition. But that is not enough to turn on the lights.

It is hours of overtime, or the sacrifice of one less meal out on the town as young families and single parents scrimp and save so they can sign their boys up for youth football. Maybe the kid themselves sells candy bars to family, friends, and neighbors. Or maybe it is not youth football, but soccer, or baseball, or wrestling, or track, which first captures a young boy’s heart and feeds the flame. No matter what conjures those competitive juices, and builds coordination, eventually a kid must decide they want to shine on the brightest stage out there. They must say to themselves … I want to stand beneath those Friday Night Lights.

But still it is not enough to turn on those lights. The sacrifices of parents and caregivers from money, to time volunteering as coaches, to shuttling their offspring to and from practice. The hard work of the kids themselves. That is all part of the magic, but it is not the whole story.

It takes communities and taxpayers of hardworking men and women to fund the school. It takes the drive and passion of the teachers that will take these young men and push and shape and mold them into football players worthy of stepping beneath those lights. It takes car washes, and camaraderie and booster clubs and cheerleaders both before and during the game to rouse spirit in fans and towns. It takes the love of family, and friends and the pride of towns and alumni. It takes refs driving two maybe three hours to do a thankless job. It takes coaches, both the head man and his assistants, missing valuable time with their own families to best prepare their adopted sons for Friday night. It takes parents making long drives across the sparse Texas landscape. Drives that begin in the years before the bright lights come on. Drives when they are 7^th, 8^th graders. Freshman and JV.

Yes, it takes a long time before the lights shine bright.

It takes sweat, tears, money, and motivation. It takes love and pride and hope to turn those lights on.

So this fall when you look up and you see those swirling moths and flying insects do not think of them as bugs flocking to a light -- think of them as God's smallest creatures gathering in the glow of a true spectacle that only those who have fought so hard and so long to illuminate.

Think of how special those Friday Night Lights truly are. 

Ties That Bind

My life is tied to written words.

I chose to bind myself to them. Sure my mom led me to a love of reading with those countless trips to the library, but I fell in love with books and stories, characters -- imaginary and otherwise of my own volition.

That love of reading created the writer I am today. Now I'm bound to written words all the more. Writing is are how I express my ideas, my emotions, my sentiments. But it is also how I learn explore and investigate.

What I write isn't always true. That's the beauty. As a writer I can deliberate lay out untruths and still not get labeled a liar, but rather a novelist, a purveyor of fiction, an examiner of the human psyche.

Fiction authors do not tell the truth in the traditional sense,but we do reveal ideas, emotions, and sentiments that the universal truths of this world. We create something believable, tangible, and lasting. Or at least we do when at our best.

How do we do it?

By watching, studying, living.

Writing is often about the underbelly of life. The rawness lurking in the shadows that few of us ever want to expose to the light of day. Writing and reading are liberating pursuits.

I originally wrote this as a lead in to discuss my father. He passed away a few weeks ago. He was only 66. Unfortunately his affairs were not in order, and as I have always been somewhat estranged from his side of the family, I now find myself juggling to carry out his last wishes while settling his estate amidst dissenting views. This means a mess of lawyers and a pile of he said/she said.

No doubt a story or character will be born from all of this, for that is how the mind of a fiction writer works.

We search for bigger truths, hidden meanings, and scraps of humanity in all situations. Good and bad. This is definitely one of the bad, but I am a writer. My emotions are tied to words so perhaps the truths, the ideals, the emotions of this will eventually elevate my ability to tell a compelling story, because unlike people, written words, can live on forever.

     


         

Yes I Am

It's been a while now since my last book came out. Late summer of 2013 for those keeping count.

The reasons behind this fact are varied, but the result is I often get asked one of two questions ...

1) When the is next book coming out?
or
2) Are you still writing?


The first question is a tough one to answer because that fact is not up to me. (Unless I choose to self-publish which I have given serious thought for one particular novel I STRONGLY believe in, yet have never quite placed. Despite several disappointingly close calls) 

That second question always surprises me on several levels. One I know how passionate I am about the art of writing so I'm almost offended when someone assumes I could quit. And secondly I want to scream "ARE YOU NOT PAYING ANY DAMN ATTENTION AT ALL?"

 I'm always writing something. And sharing links on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. I can even understand people not clicking over to read whatever it is I have shared but to ask, "Are you still writing?"

This is where it gets dicey. It is easy to be that guy that only hocks his wares. The social media equivalent of an Amway salesman, but I try to limit the hey will you buy my books posts. I share the stuff that is free out there a bit more often because hey, its not selling if there is no money involved.

But even with that aside I often talk about writing realted things. I share book news and the success of my writing friends. I live and breath in a world jam packed with literature. I talk about these same things in my face-to-face interactions. not incessantly but often enough I wonder how anybody can ever ask with a  straight face, "Are you still writing?"  

The one place I have been lackadaisical in updating is this blog so while no one has left a comment here asking ... "Are you still writing?" I could understand it from my readers here given my lack of updates.

So here goes some of the proof

Half a dozen articles ranging from Country Cliches to Beer to Crime for a place called Wide Open Country (they will be posting more over time)

Top O' Texas Football, Baseball, and Softball Magazines

and I have also been doing a good bit of business writing (press releases, blog posts, newsletter material, and magazine submissions) as well as social media work for several businesses. My favorite of which is a company called Femco Drain Solutions. 

Femco makes drain plugs for oil oil pans and other fluids and really it is a clever little gadget that makes it possible to change your oil without getting your hands dirty. It speeds the process up and is especially vital for fleets of all types as it streamlines the oil change process while also making it safer, cleaner, and more efficient. They also make great gifts for those hard-to-buy-for men so with Father's Day coming up give them a look at their website.

 

I have also started a new novel which I am very excited about. It is a bit different than the women's fiction I usually write, but I am having more fun writing and researching it than I have in a number of years with any other project.

So yes, I am still writing. Every damn day. Until I die.

Galloping Along

Earlier this week this blog hit Birthday #8.

Eight is a long time in internet world though if I am being truthful the heyday of this blog and most others has come and gone. People move on. Fads change. Focus shifts. If video killed the radio star then social media killed the blogosphere.

I miss the old days of such a vibrant writing community, but obviously not enough to do my part to keep them alive. I don't create or visit other blogs the way I once did. Frankly, I wonder how I ever found the time back then.

So much has happened to my gang of online friends. Some have passed on, others have finally found the success they so richly deserve. Others have disappeared altogether. I get a touch sad if I think of those that quit chasing their dreams. Perhaps they found new dreams to go after. Perhaps they are happier than those of us still fighting away in the tough world of publishing.

Some I keep up with via Twitter, Facebook or Instagram but it is not the same level of intimacy that the old blog world had.

But life does march on. Time gets away from me often and then I remember something or see a picture of a child I remember being born posted and think How, How the hell is it possible that kid is so big. Or I see photos of kids I remember going to their first day of school who are now teenagers. Elementary kids passing their drivers test. Teenagers growing up and getting married and producing grandbaby pictures.

It all get overwhelming at time. To think on it and study on how much time has slipped by makes me melancholy at times. As of life itself is passing me by.

But that is a dangerous habit. Looking back is never healthy. The writing life is not for the faint of heart. I think it is a trap we place on ourselves. A trap for which there is no escape.

The wildly successful are under pressure to produce that next great thing.
The mildly successful fight to hand on.
The yet to be successful wonder when their turn will come.

Few writers I have ever met are content and satisfied with their position in the business. I think this is because we live in our heads too much. Twisting turning examining our fates with the same scrutiny we do our plots and characters.

I'm just rambling on. Getting out thoughts. I suppose this is a long winded way to say I miss many of my writing friends. I miss the excitement of the chase that came with being pre-published. Now the saddle of expectation weighs me down but every once in a while I need to remind myself this is a race I chose to run.     

Troubador

While blogging has not been going great, I have been busy writing. I'm excited about a new fiction project I've recently started, am pitching some other stuff I've just finished polishing, and luckily been swamped with a good bit of freelance work from sports writing to music.

You can check out some of that work here if you wish.

Freelancing can be fun and profitable but at the same time you get pigeonholed by what the client wants. Compromises have to be made and sadly not every business relationship is made to last. Sometimes both the ideals and ideas clash. I freelance not because I have to, but because fiction writing is a slow moving process and sometimes it is nice to see your words and ideas read in a timely fashion. And hey, every paycheck is a validation in a pursuit fraught with disappointment.

Having said that, my musical writing juices have been cooking as of late so I've been doing a lot of music writing and much of it is for myself as much as anything else. I love to attend live shows and I'm fortunate to have a handful of musicians I can call friend. One such person is Ray Wilson.  

Ray was gracious enough to send me an advance copy of his new CD Troubadour . Following his read I thought I'd write up a complete review to help spread the word so more people can check out his music.

Ray Wilson -- Troubadour

Ray Wilson is an old soul. That is apparent from the first note on Troubador. The album builds momentum taking the listener on a pleasurable time-warp of delicious funk and soul.

The opening track, “Rebel In Faded Old Jeans,” is smooth and smoky and perfectly sets the tone for the album. A hard guitar lick underscores the passion of the unnamed rebellious troubadour, but somehow it is understood this track is Wilson’s pledge to give his all to both the album and his audience.

“Racin’ Jake”  is a haunting coming of age tale about the challenges that make us who we are. Musically, it is perhaps my least favorite, but the tune is one everyone can relate to on some level. The third track “Misty Waters” showcases Wilson’s vocal smoothness, but is otherwise only a prelude of the album’s real emotion and power which shines through on the back half.

The folksy emotion of Wilson and the range of his voice materializes with “Sit Beneath The Tree” and carries right into the fifth track“Soul” which is lyrically my favorite selection from Troubador. “Outside on Sunday,”  is a delicately balanced tune that you can’t help but sing along with upon a second, third, fourth, and beyond listening, and within the boundaries of the album feels like a perfect place for our troubadour to land after a hard Saturday night.

Sounding a bit like a third Everly Brother, Wilson resurrects the crooning ballad with “Silver Threads,” and again reinforces the overall story feel of the album. Wilson has given us a life story whether it is meant to be a metaphor of his own musical journey, or more likely that of the collective inspirations behind his sound. I get the sense that Wilson is reflecting upon the way things used to be, both in regards to music and life while reminding us life can slip through our grasp if we don’t grab hold when we can. “Underdog” punctuates this point with its message that our strength must be internal if we are truly going to persevere, because without faith and self-belief, today’s underdog is simply tomorrow’s has-been. 

Wrapping Troubadour with a reprise of “Rebel In Faded Old Jeans” Wilson brings it back around to triumphantly declare, he is here to stay and that his old soul is one that cannot be denied.  The nuances of the album come alive on second, third and fourth listening, but the smooth buttery vocals and folk brand of blues make Troubadour an entertaining listen the first time through.   

For ordering information or to purchase a digital copy please click here. 

If you live near Amarillo be sure and come out to the Golden Light Cantina March 6th for the official CD release party. I sure plan to be there.