Women's Fiction? Yes, Please.

Let's talk Women's Fiction.

What is it?

The Romance Writers of America organization defines women's fiction as, "a commercial novel about a woman on the brink of life change and personal growth. Her journey details emotional reflection and action that transforms her and her relationships with others, and includes a hopeful/upbeat ending with regard to her romantic relationship."

Okay I can live with that definition.

So how exactly did I become a Women's Fiction author?

That's a little harder to pinpoint, but I can tell you it wasn't easy. I never opened my eyes one morning and said, "Hey I think I want to become the next Nicholas Sparks."

And no offense to Mr. Sparks but I don't want to be the next him. I want to be me. Sure I want to write books his audience wants to read, but I want to be me. I want somewhere someday there to be a literary agent or editor that tells an author, "You are the next Travis Erwin." Start growing your goateess now you would be male Women's Fiction writers."

I began writing seriously after taking a college class with Jodi Thomas. I'd always been a lifelong reader and thought I could write a compelling story but meeting her and talking to her I for the first time believe a country boy from Amarillo, Texas could make a go at being an author. 

For those unfamiliar with her work, Jodi Thomas is a  Hall of Fame member of the Romance Writers of America. She is the person that I can credit for launching my passion to be an author. Here is a picture of the two of us taken a  few years back.

I learned a lot about the business and writing from Jodi. Including the fact I'm a Women's Fiction writer. She challenged us to write the first 50 pages of a novel in that class. I did. She read them, liked them and told me "I never guessed a big scrapping guy like you would write women's fiction." 

Guess what Jodi. Neither did I. I simply began telling the story in my head. Funny thing is that story I began oh so long ago has a new title ... a shiny new cover ...and most importantly a release date. yes that book I began 13 long years ago has become TWISTED ROADS.

I doubt any one paragraph is the same. Heck some of the characters are not the same. The book that comes out oh so soon is far better than the stuff I handed Ms Thomas to read but the same emotions the same quest for personal growth and emotional reflection are there. They are there in nearly everything I write. Yes even the Feedstore Chronicles. The growth in that book was my own and I'm obviously not a woman so while that book was not women's fiction I am most proud of the reviews I recieved like this one ...

5.0 out of 5 stars Resilience and true Grit-a coming of age book deeper than the cover, November 10, 2011

By 

J.Smith (Seattle, Washington) - See all my reviews

Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)

This review is from: The Feedstore Chronicles (Paperback)

This book is hilarious. It is also deeply moving, proving one can not judge by a comedic and clever cover. Erwin shows immense depth as a writer, and the story would be funny and worth reading even if he didn't manage to convey the true challenges of being raised by a single mother in a dusty Texas town without whining. Mr. Erwin writes a captivating story, and I was unexpectedly moved and inspired by the prose. A great read, and one I highly recommend. 


That's who I want to be as a writer. I want to delve below the surface so while I might not have intentionally became a Women's Fiction writer I embrace the term. Am proud to wear the title. No I'm not the typical women's fiction author and that has made it tougher to get to this point. But I feel my work can stand on its own. So now that I'm actually going to have a novel out there in the genre I think the fact I'm a 6'5 nearly 300 hundred pound Texan with a twang in his voice and boots on his feet is a good thing. it gives me the ability to stand out in a crowded field of talented writers.

I am the same writer I have always been. I hope to make you laugh, cry, and cheer along with the characters. I hope to make you feel as if you learned something about not only my characters but humanity as a whole. About what makes all of us tick. About what it is like to fight and struggle and get back up again. To fall in love all over again.

That is why I write. That is why we live.
 

Wonder How You Say We in Canada **

Yep, I'm still alive. Despite the longest hiatus I've ever taken in more than five years of writing this blog.

My absence wasn't necessarily planned and I've thought of posting often, but one thing or another has kept me away. That and the fact I STILL cannot talk about what I really want to talk about so to keep from saying too much I've said nothing.

If I've learned anything from the nearly 13 years of writing it is that waiting is the norm. And of all the skills one must possess to make it in this business I believe patience is the most vital.

We must have patience for the stories and characters we write. That small seed of an idea must germinate and grow or the story and its inhabitants will be as stale and tasteless as a bowl of lettuce.

We must be patient through the process of writing and editing. We must learned to step away from the computer on those days when every plot point, every character and every sentence seems like a waste of time. the delete button is deadly to a disgruntled writer, but trust me, premature ejectulation will only increase your disappointment.

When we are finished we must be patient with the editing process and remember it is not a race to send your manuscript out in the world. We must take TIME honing the perfect query.

And perhaps hardest of all, we must be patience once the manuscript is submitted to agents or editors.

Then if we are fortuitous enough to see out work published we must be patient for readers to find and discover our babies. We must be patient in reminding ourselves a writing career is a process not an event.

And as that process grows we must remind ourselves about non-disclosure contracts and the importance of continuing to write ... to dream ... to believe.

We must be patience and remember some things, perhaps even most things are beyond out control. We must remember why we started writing in the first place.


** PS. I'd like to explain how the title of this post relates, but yep, you guessed it -- I'm not allowed.

Touching My Root(s)

My first novel was a romance novel.

I never intended it to be when I first sat down and began writing the story some 12 odd long years ago. I was just telling the story that filled my head. Being the voice of the characters that spoke to me.

I'd spent my life reading and had read a wide variety of books of many genres without being a particularity devotee to any of them. At the time I was enrolled in my very first true writing class. (Oh I'd taken creative writing as a college freshman, but that was about acing assignment, not achieving publication.) My instructor in that calls was RWA Hall of Famer Jodi Thomas. And when she read the beginning of that novel she said, "It feels like a romance, but it's structured more like literary." Because of that and the input of other I for years called it -- Women's Fiction. But like Jodi said at it's heart the book was and is a Romance Novel.

I wrote a second book which was more of a love story than a true romance. Then a third that was pure romance. 

And then I strayed.

All of those novels nearly found homes but for a variety of reasons they are still unpublished.

I went through a time thereafter where I started and stopped 3 or 4 new novels. Romances, women's fiction, and a dark literary work, but still heavily invested in affairs of the heart.

Then I started this blog. Began to write more humor. Penned my novella Plundered Booty and began work on The Feedstore Chronicles. 

I won't speak for all writers, only myself but I think most of my brethren would say something similar.

Writing for publication is hard. It is fraught with rejections, failures, and long hours, months, and years of disappointments. So much so that even the tiniest of successes is like salve to a wound.

When this blog found an audience and began to grow (back when lots of folks would read blogs meaning BEFORE FACEBOOK), and people I really respect began to praise my humor voice, and I began selling humorous works I believe I was only a humor writer. I abandoned my more emotional writing and somewhere in there I kind of lost myself as a writer. And only recently have I started to migrate back to where I want to be.

Don't get me wrong, I think the comedic stuff I've done has merit but I think it lacks soul at times. Heart even. What I hope to achieve is both funny and emotional. There are times I pulled that off in The Feedstore Chronicles and times I did not.

Another thing about we writers. We worry and fret about things we shouldn't. Our carts are often way ahead of our horses.

I'm still not allowed to share things I really want to share but things are evolving in regards to my career. Well not so much as evolving as coming back around. There is something big, HUGE, LIFE CHANGING, on my horizon that will bring me back to those romance roots. I have been worrying and fretting that my only real writing presence in the marketplace is a comedic coming-of-age memoir. While it is a love story in the end, The Feedstore Chronicles certainly is no romance novel.

The fine folks at TAG Publishing that released TFC have been working with me and we've discussed many a follow project. They truly are interested in helping me build a career so  after much discussion we have decided it would be best for my next release to be something of a bridge between Feedstore and my romance/women's fiction projects which certainly appear to be my future.

 Hello Plundered Booty!

Long time readers will remember that is the name of a short story, turned novel, turned novella I wrote a number of years ago. The Novella was published in the Deadly By the Dozen e- anthology but I have recently been revamping to story.  I am getting closer to finishing it up and I'm really happy with what I have at this point. Comedic in nature it is a tale of modern day piracy set mostly in the fictional town of Red Dirt Oklahoma. It is chocked full of derelict car salesman, love, lust, and men thirsty for more than Caribbean rum.

I'm not sold on Plundered Booty as the title but that is where I'm at in my writing ventures. I'll update y'all as I can.

Notch Up The Arrows

More and more I realize I am the literary equivalent of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde.Actually my two writing personalities are not so much good and evil as they are ridiculous and serious.

All of my works fall into either the categories of absurd comedy, or darkly emotional.

But there does seem to be one common theme to most everything I write -- love.

Even THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES, for all of its pervasive comedy, is at its conclusion a love story. Plundered Booty the same. I have recently tried to write 3 separate comedy project where love was not a factor in the plot or theme. I have failed to create so much as a single acceptable chapter on any of the three. 

I have 4, maybe 5 unfinished novels buried on my hard drive. Upon further examination none of these failed starts deal with love.

All of my completed novels, from the romance and women's fiction stuff to the comedic stories to the one literary novel I've completed would make cupid proud.

I'm not sure what this says about me. Perhaps I have tried too hard to flee the "big hairy love story writer" moniker. Perhaps I have been in denial about who I am as a writer. But no more. I am going to totally embrace this fact about me and write strictly from the heart. Even if I have to market the more serious, dark material with a pseudonym.
 

Lucky Number 13

Luck.

I believe in it.

Sure we often manufacture our own luck by being prepared. Knowledgeable. Smart in how we approach matters.

But sometimes luck shines upon us. Even when we are unprepared. Stupid. Ignorant in our actions.

Today I'm going to share a story of great luck.

Now most stories that involve trips to the Emergency Room are not about luck at all.

I'm proud to say this is not most stories.

Racing Ahead

Those of you who follow me on Facebook or twitter have already know some of this but I know some of you don't so I want to share some potentially exciting news with y'all.

But I wouldn't be a very good writer if I hopped straight to the exciting part so let me give you the whole story.

Three or four weeks back, I got wind of a casting call for a new reality television show. The producers of this show were looking for 12 unique romance writers and 12 avid romance readers. The casting call had a list of 5 or 6 questions so I answered them and emailed in my response.

A few days later I hear from the producer. She wants me to expound upon a few of my original answers.

A couple of emails followed. Then a phone conversation.

A phone conversation that was went very well and has me very excited about my chances. I wish I could share more but I can't at this point but man am I stoked about the possibilities before me.

*********************************

In other news I recently read a fantastic YA book called The Scorpio Races. I'd heard plenty about the talents of the author, Maggie Stiefvater but still I was surprised by the quality of the prose. Here is the blurb as it appears on Amazon.

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Shiver and Linger comes a brand new, heartstopping novel.

Some race to win. Others race to survive.

It happens at the start of every November: the Scorpio Races. Riders attempt to keep hold of their water horses long enough to make it to the finish line. 

Some riders live.

Others die.

At age nineteen, Sean Kendrick is the returning champion. He is a young man of few words, and if he has any fears, he keeps them buried deep, where no one else can see them.
Puck Connolly is different. She never meant to ride in the Scorpio Races. But fate hasn't given her much of a choice. So she enters the competition - the first girl ever to do so. She is in no way prepared for what is going to happen.

As she did in her bestselling Shiver trilogy, author Maggie Stiefvater takes us to the breaking point, where both love and life meet their greatest obstacles, and only the strong of heart can survive. The Scorpio Races is an unforgettable reading experience.


 
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And for you poetry fans out there please take a moment and check out this blog written by my good friend Adam. Adam is an extraordinary young man of 23 that is wise beyond his years. He is a seminarian from my church and I can't wait until he is a full-fledged priest because he will writing some spectacular homilies.

Truth be told I'm not a huge poetry guy. I do not always connect with the words of poets but there are few whose prose speaks to me. And as I write this I think the quality that make me connect with these few is TRUTH. The Walking Man who often frequents this blog and Adam write is such a way that it makes me feel as if I am peering into their soul seeing not what they want to show me but he truth hidden in the shadows. I like that as the that often leads to me discovering something about myself I'd never thought of or at least never admitted.

Yes, I Am A Pirate

Tomorrow I turn 39.

Given that fact I do believe this should be my theme song for the next 12 months. I do like Jimmy Buffet, but Jack Johnson's mellow vibe on this song really appeals to me which is why I shared his version.


Looking at 40.

I've never actually met a Mayan, but according to them the world will end on my 40th birthday ... 12/21/2012 but the date doesn't scare me much. After all, how damn smart could the Mayans be if none of them survived? And marking 4 decades among the living sure beats the alternative. However, as I age I do find myself reflecting on life ... past, present, and future more often.

I am thankful for the experiences I've had in life, lucky to have survived more than a few of them, and blessed to be where I am at. I thank you for sharing the last several years with me here on this blog and I hope to see you a few of you at my 40th/End of Times Birthday bash. yes there will be one and 12/21/2012 falls on a Friday so make plans to attend now.

Take care my friends and in case I don't post again before then, have a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Fantabulous Festivus.

Good Times

I've put off this post far too long but I wanted to give more of y'all a chance to read THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES before I posted these pics.

I am extremely blessed to have a great wife as well as very good friends. Together they tossed me a party in honor of TFC's release.

Without further adieu I bring you the photographic evidence of a very fun night for me.

I APPRECIATED THE THOUGHT BUT THAT GIANT ASS PICTURE DID STRIKE ME AS FUNERAL-ESQUE

 DON'T KNOW WHY BLOGGER DECIDED TO LOAD THIS SIDEWAYS BUT SEEING AS TO HOW MOST OF THE ATTENDEES FINISHED THE NIGHT SEEING SIDEWAYS PERHAPS IT IS APPROPRIATE. THE EVENT WAS HELD AT BAR Z WINERY JSUT SOUTH OF AMARILLO.

I'M STILL GETTING USED TO THE WHOLE "SIGNING" THING BUT NOT THE PEARL BEER BOTTLE. ALSO NOTE I AM ACTUALLY DRINKING SHINER

IT'S ABOUT HERE THAT SOME OF THE PHOTOS GET FUZZY. AGAIN LIKE MOST OF THE ATTENDEES. THE LIGHTS IN THE HORIZON ARE AMARILLO.

NOTICE THERE IS NOTHING GREEN ON THOSE PLATES.

I FOUND IT QUITE FUNNY THAT PARTICULAR QUOTE WAS BEING WORN BY A DOZEN OR SO WOMEN 

SO HERE THEY ARE. MUCH OF THE GANG THAT HELPED TO INSPIRE THE BOOK. (FROM RIGHT TO LEFT  WITH THE NAME YOU WOULD KNOW THEM AS) - DOYLE, LAURA, JENNIFER, ME, HOUSTON, DALLAS, AND AUSTIN'S STUNT DOUBLE)

 LIZ AND DEE THE POWERS THAT BE AT TAG PUBLISHING AND THERE HUSBANDS WHO I'M CERTAIN WIELD THEIR OWN BRAND OF POWER (when Liz and Dee allow for it)

MONTY, THE OWNER AND PROPRIETOR AT BAR Z. AS YOU CAN SEE, HE TOO LIKES TO SPIN A TALE OR TWO

MY WIFE JENNIFER, LISSA, AND MY SISTER-IN-LAW STEPHANIE.  NO, I DIDN'T BREAK HER ARM BECAUSE SHE REFUSED TO SPORT A PEARL'S SHIRT AND PEARL NECKLANCE IN MY HONOR

ME AND "DOYLE" SURROUNDED BY FAR BETTER LOOKING WOMEN THAN FREQUENTED THE FEEDSTORE. THOUGH THAT EXPRESSION ON LISSA'S FACE IS PURE FEEDSTORE ECSTASY.
 

HERE IS A GANG OF PEOPLE READING IN AN ATTEMPT TO FIGURE OUT WHAT EXACTLY "YOU WANNA HELP ME FEED THE CHICKENS?" MEANS.

ME AND THE FAMED DEBORAH ELLIOTT-UPTON

ME AND MONTY DIXON THE MAN BEHIND BAR Z WINE.

For The Love of Money

In my thirty eight, nearly thirty-nine years on this earth, I've had a very eclectic assortment of paying gigs. Some I've done for fun others purely for the money.

As a young kid of twelve or thirteen my buddies and I raised cash by dumpster diving. We'd gather aluminum cans from the various trash cans that lined the alleys and then ride our bikes to the closest recycling center. Generally we blew that money on fireworks or trips to the arcade.

Then Nintendo came out and pretty much that same group of friends went together with our can money to buy spray paint and a pack of stencils. Nowadays we wouldn't be able to even buy the paint on our own. Painting address numbers on curbs bought not only my first Nintendo but Playstation as well.

I've trapped and shot coyotes, bobcats and other fur bearing critters for cash. 

The first real job came in high school when I went to work for Albertson's grocery store. But I quit only a few weeks in because they wouldn't let me off to attend a pig show. My senior year alone I earned better than 25,000 dollars showing pigs so I'm going to say I made the right decision. I wouldn't make that much money again until I went to work for the Postal Service.

For most of my high school years, I worked at the feedstore. It was the job that made me the person I am today. It was the job that inspired The Feedstore Chronicles which now counts as a paying gig in itself.

From the feedstore, I went to the Post Office where I still am today, but alongside my daily shores of ensuring the mail gets to its destination I have padded my income with a variety of gigs.

I reffed high school football for a number of years. I played both Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny at a shopping mall. I sold Kirby vacuum cleaners (the worst job I ever had). I mowed lawns. I hauled hay.

These days I write stories. Stories often inspired by experiences from all these other jobs. Stories that I hope are richer than most of the paychecks I've cashed.

I still consider myself a storyteller first and a writer second. For years now I've fought hard to reconcile the two, perhaps too hard as sometimes I let the mechanics of writing derail the storytelling train.

In life happiness comes to those who realize who and what they are. To those who embrace their strengths rather than run from them. I'm trying to do that for myself these days. That is not to say I don't strive to be a better writer with every article I read, workshop I attend, or piece that I write, but at the same time I am going to trust myself, take more chances, tell the stories I want to tell.

I hope y'all will enjoy them. 

It's A Jungle Out There

This isn't so much a post as it is a declaration.

For 11 years I've been chasing the publication dream.

I've tried to do everything the so-called "right" way.

I bought into the convention that the "right" way, was the only way.

Well the closer I get, the less I like the look of the conventional path. Sure the trail is well lit and groomed but guess what, I'm a bit darker and twisted myself. I like to stomp through the undergrowth even if I have to pick out a few stickers.

Travis is stepping off the path. Travis is taking the scenic route. Travis is going hiking.

Yeah I just went third person while talking about myself. So what?

A Little Friendly Scar Tissue

Nearly two weeks since my last blog post here at One Word. I think that is a record dry spell. Time has not been my friend as of late. Hope a few of you are still hanging around.

So anyway a friend of mine recently brought me a t-shirt back from the Virgin Islands. A piratey shirt from a place called Blackbeard's Castle. The shirt reads ... SCARS ARE TATTOOS WITH BETTER STORIES

I wore said shirt to a meet-up dinner with a group of fellow writers last night.

I'm quite lucky to live in a community where there are so many talented and successful writers.

I enjoyed chatting with Anita Howard. You may not know Anita yet, but you soon will. Anita is fabulously talented. Check out her blog here. She recently landed representation with Jenny Bent and trust me when I say she has a stupendous voice. Her latest endeavor is a literary YA Fantasy titled, Splintered. Here is the trailer.

I also got to chat with Kimberly Willis Holt, author of My Louisiana Sky, When Zachary Beaver Came To Town (Winner of the National Book Award for Young People's Literature, as well as School Library Journal's Best Book of the Year). And the Piper Reed series.




 Then there were those that write adult fiction ...






Linda Castillo whose novel Breaking Silence, the third in a series starring Amish Country Police Chief Kate Burkholder is now available  for pre-order and is already getting rave reviews








“In addition to creating exceptionally well drawn characters and crafting a gripping plot that takes some shocking turns to a heart-pounding conclusion, Castillo probes with keen sensitivity the emotional toll taken by police work. The third in this series of thrillers (after Sworn to Silence, 2009, and Pray for Silence, 2010) is another winner.”—Booklist

Linda organized our dinner and is she so pleasant to chat with it's almost hard to imagine she writes with such cutting edge suspense. 


Friend, mentor and tormentor Deborah Elliott-Upton was there eating a salad right beside me. Debbie is a helluva mystery writer with an unnatural hangup for Johnny Depp. Besides having a slew of short story creds to her name she blogs every Thursday over at Criminal Brief. 
  





And though I didn't get to speak with her as long as I would have liked RWA Hall of Famer Jodi Thomas was just down the table.   





So what the heck does this have to do with my t-shirt. Well on the way home, I was thinking about writing. (That's the great benefit of hanging around other writers. They inspire me to write.) And I realized how true the shirt's saying is in relation to writing fiction.

It is the scars. The damage inflicted in the past that shapes characters. Makes them who they are.  And like a scar how, when and what caused the damage is rarely revealed right away. It leaves the reader guessing, wondering.

Also tattoos are things we plan for. Things we don't mind showing. They can be interesting as can descriptions we writers directly parcel out to our readers but its those unexpected things that are slow or reluctant to reveal themselves that really capture a reader.

I have no tattoos, though I've long said I'll get one to celebrate and honor the first novel I sell. I do have a few scars however and yes, every one of them has a story.




.

Toasty Cockles - Faithful friday

Longtime readers of this blog know that I have been taking classes to become a full fledged Catholic for nearly 2 years now.

I wrote a few posts about my religious upbringing and how I fell completely away from all organized religion. (that can be found here in order #1, #2, #3, #4, and #5. I intended to keep going and explain why joining the catholic church was the right thing for me, but every time I attempted that post I came across as preachy, judgmental, or self righteous. I simply could not convey my thoughts into words. A sad thing for someone who considers themselves a writer.

That is not to say I have ever wavered on my decision. in both my heart and my head I am steadfast that the path I have chosen is the correct one for me.  the process of accepting and converting is a personal one and i suspect no two faith journeys are the same.

Saturday night I will be baptized and take first communion.

For years now I have been active in both St Mary's Church and school. My wife teaches there. My boys attend and i love volunteering to help in all maters with the kids. I've coached a variety of sports, led a literacy club, and taught storytelling as well volunteering at many other activities. I know nearly every kid in the school and they know me.

And yet I never expected to be overwhelmed with the gift the 2nd grade class gave me in honor of my upcoming baptism. the kids made me a book and despite this post already being long. I'm going to share the pages of that book as well as my comments. I'm not sure what a cockle even is, but this unexpected gift sure gave me the warm fuzzies.

In most of the pictures including this one my goatee makes an appearance.

 This one is my son's page. He always goes camping over Easter weekend and since I'm a Chatecumenate and my wife is a sponsor the boys would have had to to sit with someone else for the 2 and a half hour mass so we decided to let them go camping as usual. Not the last line. The one he erased. it read "You are a good dad." When i asked him why he erased it, Zalen said he already had written enough.

My goat is REALLY big in this one. 

Note the halo people.

This girl has better handwriting than I do.

No goatee but I'm proud she said I'm good at "writeing stories."

The uber beard and sideways cap is a look I might go for soon.

Perhaps the most accurate depiction of me. And yes it will feel good to get all those sins forgiven.

I've always wanted to smell like oil.

This one is tough to read because he wrote lightly, but to paraphrase I am a great person and a funny guy.

And entertaining.

Love the spelling and message of this one but come on dude my goat looks better than that. 

l

No, that is not Fidel Castro with a halo. That is me thank you very much.

I'm not sure but I think I was hogtied to the baptismal font in this one.

I hope that is a candle in my hand and not a machete. A tall bearded guy like me would never cut anyone. 

Only in the eyes of a 2 graders would I be considered a great football coach for winning 2 games in two seasons.

This book is a gift which i will always cherish. Thank you Mrs Jager and the St Mary's 2nd grade class.

Y'all truly brightened this convert's heart.

The Big Mo

Writing is keeping me super busy at the moment, but I'm not complaining as finally I have a bit of momentum in the decade long pursuit of making a career at what I love.

For the second year in a row I'm freelancing for a Texas based football magazine by writing profiles of the many high school teams here in the state. Friday night lights, the authentic version. Mostly I enjoy writing the profiles, especially if handed over enough info to create a decent story, but I gotta say people who chose the various school nicknames were an unimaginative bunch. There are far too many Hornets, Bulldogs, and Panthers for my liking. Where is the originality people?

For example not far south of Amarillo is the small town of Hedley, Texas. Their mascot? The Owls. Who gives a hoot? There are at least a dozen teams that claim the wise feathered one as their mascot and the words Hedley Owls doesn't even roll off the tongue all that nicely.

If I was in charge I would rename the mascot. To me they would be the Hedley Horsemen.

Tell me that logo wouldn't look great on the side of a football helmet.

In other writing news the short story collection housing my modern day pirate tale, Plundered Booty is now available on not only nook and kindle, but at smashwords as well. Smashwords has a variety of formats from html and pdf for reading on your computer to most e-readers or even palm reading devices. The story has sold steady at the comments I have received have been favorable but I'm a bit disappointed that there are only 2 reviews at amazon and none at Barnes and Noble. If you've read I and my fellow authors would be grateful if you could leave a word or two at either site.

And of course I continue to write and promote my latest endeavor Lettuce Is The Devil which is one part cook book, one part collection of humorous essays, and one part memoir. It is perhaps the easiest thing I've ever written as it is the story of my culinary life.

Stop by either the Facebook page, the twitter feed, or the blog to get an idea of what I'm talking about. The Lettuce Is the Devil movement is catching on and soon I will have some news regarding that fact.

But for now, I wish you happy reading, productive writing, and tasty eating.

Wonder What I'd Weigh On The Richter Scale

Did you feel that? That little quiver at your feet? Maybe it felt more like a rumble if you live anywhere close to Texas. No the tremor wasn't an earthquake. That resounding thud and vibration was me falling of the wagon.

As you may have noticed I haven't been blogging every week about the status of my goals. Matter of fact, I haven't chimed in on that subject in 4 weeks now.


Back on January 25th I weighed in at 280 pounds. Today on February 22nd I weigh in at ... wait for it 280.


That's right folks I haven't lost a damn thing in the last month. You see, I like to eat and while the urge to drop pounds was great when I was up to 297, but with twenty pounds to spare I simply do not have the willpower to turn down that 5th and 6th beer, that third rum and coke. Or that second burger third dinner roll. Or that entire coconut cream pie Jennifer made me for Valentines day. I thought I was being generous when I let the boys have one slice apiece. 


Yeah my gut is bigger than it's supposed to be but am 6'5". That is 77 total inches and if you divide 280 by 77 I weigh a mere 3.63 pounds per inch.

I've been doing better in regards to my goal of reading 75 books this year. Since my last check in I have read 5 books bringing my total to 9 on the year. The latest reads were  ...

Catholic Church

by Hans Kung

Signs of Life

by Scott Hahn

Summer at Willow Lake (Lakeshore Chronicles Series #1)

by Susan Wiggs

 

Huckleberry Finn from the Complete Mark Twain Collection (Over 300 works)

by Mark Twain

  

Stuck in the Middle

by Virginia Smith

 

 

 

 Two nonfiction religion books, a romance novel, a classic, and a women's fiction novel.

 

 

My own writing has been hit and miss. I've written a lot of words on my WIP but kept very few of them. I did send out some queries and I picked up some freelance work writing high school football profiles for a regional magazine called Top of Texas Football Magazine.  I wrote for them last year and luckily they invited me back.

 

 

I doubt I'll get back on board the weight loss cart anytime soon, but just as sure as a fat man loves a buffet I'll keep o reading and writing. 

 

 

Me & Them

Being a dad has turned me into a hypocrite of sorts.

I look fondly back at the things I did -- enjoyed, and yet I shelter my own boys from many such experiences.

On one hand a wish they could experience the kind of freedom I had as a kid, but then I am the very person who most often denies them those freedoms.

I sometimes think I'm doing them a  disservice, sheltering them too much, I fear they will not know how to deal with "real word" situations and yet I take pride that at 10 and 8 they think of FART as the F word.

I think of the childhood they are having in comparison to my own and wonder how different a person I would be had I been raised with the advantages they have.

Now I'm not saying I had a bad childhood. I en joyed my days as a carefree kid allowed to roam the entire southeast side of Amarillo. Yeah my vocabulary included words no mother wants their son to say, but I had sense to know not to deploy an F Bomb within earshot of an adult. Except that one time, when we were trying to get out the door to church and my mom was yelling at me to hurry, and I was trying to tie my shoe, and my older brother kept pushing me over over time I knelt to grab the laces. I'd had enough, so I screamed at him, "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

That was the first time my mom had ever heard me curse. I was all of nine or so, but I was wily. So when she asked where I learned such language I paid my brother back by innocently smiling and pointing at him. He was about 15 at the time and caught an earful all the way to church.

But by far the biggest difference between my boys and I is myself.

I take an active role in their life -- My dad never did.

He was a salesmen, traveling and otherwise) and therefore rarely home. Even when in town he wasn't home. He liked to gamble. And he liked Canadian Whiskey even more. Except for hunting and fishing expeditions we spent very little time together. The same is actually true to this day.

When he was home he and my mother fought. Vigorously.

I do not believe my boys have ever heard Jennifer or I raise our voices at each other.

I have no memories of my parents together when one or both were not screaming at the top of their lungs.

My mom took care of me. But she had to work to do so. that meant there were things I simply had to take care of by myself. Well, in theory my brother was around, but he never was blessed with much in the way of common sense so I pretty much fended for myself.

People say divorce has a profound impact on kids lives. For me the actual event had next to no impact.

My dad never had been around much. Matter of fact I didn't even know my parents were divorced until one day my mother took me out for pizza. As we were walking in, a lady was walking out." She looked at my mom and said, "I haven't seen you in years. How are you."

It was standing there, while not so patiently waiting to go inside and scarf down some peperoni pizza that I heard my mom say these words, "Oh no. I divorced him nearly three years ago."

I was nine or ten at the time and only when my mom added, "I don't think I'll ever get married again," did I realize she was talking about my dad.

True to her word she hasn't. Nor has my dad.

Once I got old enough and they no longer had reason to see each other or speak they quit fighting. That is not to say they like each other. They do not. I believe their dislike for one another has only festered through the years. To my knowledge they have not breathed the same air or shared a phone conversation in nearly two decades.

So it was quite funny the day my oldest son stared straight into my mom's eyes and said, "Meme, you should meet my Grandpa sometime. I think you'd like him."

I was unable to hide my grin at her chocked expression. After a moments pause my mom answered, "I've met him thank you very much."

That was three or four years ago and my son still cannot fathom that they once lived together as man and wife. He cannot comprehend that not everyone loves each other forever as promised.

I'm proud that Jennifer and I have provided a steadfast example for him but I'm nothing if not a realists and I fear both my boys will discover some of these things the hard way.

So tell me about your childhood and how it differs from the way your own kids are being raised.

The Weather Up Here

In the comments of my lat post, the esteemed bearded one, the ever lyrical and poetic Walking Man, Mr. Mark Durfree suggested I follow up with a list of reason why it is good to be tall. Here they are.


10) Even in a crowd I can see what is going on. 

9) When the bullshit gets deep not much more than my ankles get sullied.

8) My height combined with ample girth and breadth of shoulders tends to dissuade aggression from others. 

My favorite story here involves a NASCAR race. A number of years ago my cousins husband and I headed down to Ft Worth to catch a race. Traffic after the even was horrible and we ended up behind a carload of young guys in their early twenties. I was in my late twenties at the time. When I say stuck in traffic I mean moving less than 500 feet in 3 hours time as 180,000 people tried to exit at once. The guys in the car took offense to me being so close to their back bumper despite the fact there was a two mile long line of vehicles doing the same thing.

These guys get kept out to retrieve beer from the truck and each time they did so they'd make gestures I needed to back deposit the fact I had maybe 6 inches of room behind me. On his third trip or so for beer this one fella starts creaming at me to  ... "BACK THE FUCK UP!"

I smiled and waved.

He shook his head with disgust and got back in.

Ten minutes later he was back, jabbing a finger at me through the drivers window screaming obscenities.

I rolled down my window  and told him to go sit his drunk ass down at which point he says, "Why don't you get your happy ass out of the car and tell me that."

My cousin's husband urged to stay put. he said I bet he has a knife or something, but I was tired hungry and fed up so I hopped out.

Mr. Beer Fetcher's nose lined up even with my chest when I stood. His eyes widened and he immediately started apologizing stating how they needed to fix this traffic situation so the crowd could disperse quicker and no one would get frustrated trying tog et out. I never said a word as he backed all the way to his car and slid inside. For the next hour no one from their vehicle got out for any more beer.

7) Everything is supposed to be bigger in Texas. And given that I am named for one of the fallen heroes of The Alamo it simply would be going against nature if I was five foot seven.

6) Big and hairy beats little and hairy. I'd rather be described as a grizzly bear than cousin Itt any day.

5) Trout fishing is easier when you are standing in rushing water that comes only to your knees as opposed to your waist.

4) I can change every light bulb in my house without first finding a step stool.

3) Nicknames. Being called Sasquatch, Big Country, and Big T is better than say Hobbit, Little Village or Tiny T.

2) People remember me. I dare say the phrase "You know the big hairy women's fiction writer with the Texas twang," does not create a long list of images for fold to differentiate from.

1) Tall, Dark and Handsome Hell, I'm not greedy, I'm perfectly happy to be two of the three.

Tall Tales

 Post before last I included a picture of myself and one of my weekly critique partners. Someone on Facebook then commented that I was either really tall or she is really short. I responded that I was 6'5" and than spawned a discussion about height. They complained that at only a hair over 5 foot life is harder for them. I wasn't quick witted enough to fire right back but after a bit of deliberations I have now created a list of hardships that plague we taller than average folks.

Y'all know by know I have a penchant for Top 10 list so here they are in reverse order or life altering impact.

 10) Due to my height, I will never be crowed world Limbo champ.

9) My odds of being struck by lightening, especially here in the tree deprived Texas Panhandle, are greater than those built closer to the ground.

8) I have a hell of a time folding my legs into most roller coaster cars and then when i do my knees stick up thus preventing the safety bar from fitting as snug as it does for others thereby increasing my fear factor and upping the potential of a life ending heart attack.

7) My feet tend to hang off motel mattresses increasing my chances of catching a cold due to frost bitten tootsies.


6) I am clumsy and despite this assertion I have routinely been selected far to soon in man a pickup basketball game only to gravely disappoint the person doing the picking. My vertical jump is just shy of 2 inches and that fact renders me useless beneath the net. it is never fun to disappoint others.

5) Airplane seats. They suck and those damn trays whack me in the knee and do not sit evenly if my feet are flat on the floor.  

4)  Dance partners. Now I'm no Fred Astair but on occasion I enjoy a bit of two stepping and it's cumbersome to bend to accommodate shorter women. Luckily, Jennifer is my dance partner throughout life at at 5' 10 she is on the taller side herself. 

3) Low Hanging Ceiling fans do not make the best barbers.


2) You go out and try to find jeans with a 40" inseam. 


and the numero uno disadvantage to being taller than the average bear? 

1) Vertical Sex - yep you've seen those steamy shower scenes in movies. Read about the viral man pinning his lover against the wall and engaging in some sultry lovemaking while standing.

Well guess what? That section of the Kama Sutra doesn't work too well when you gotta turn into crouching tiger, in order to hide your dragon.

Tuesday #4

Tuesdays, here on the blog, are dedicated to holding myself accountable. Each week I going to toss out the facts and figures of my goals.

On this Tuesday, January 25th I weigh in at 280 pounds.

Again only a one pound drop. I think I'd have dipped below the 280 mark if not for those blasted Girl Scouts. jennifer brouhg home a box of those tasty little chocolate, coconut, and caramel circles. Those Caramel Delights taunted me until I ate every last one. To give you an idea of my current look, here is a shot taken of me and my friend Caron Guillo at her booksigning party on Saturday.

Caron's debut novel is out and titled An Uncommon Crusade. Buy a copy today.




My goal is to read 75 books this year.




I finished one book this week to bring my total to 4 on the year. Several people had told me how much the Sweet Potatoe Queen books reminded them of my Feedstore Chronicles so I finally read one, The Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love.



To be honost I was disappointed. Sure there were funny parts but I truly think this is one best read by women. I din't usually say that as I have read and enjoyed a good many romance and women's fiction novels, but this book struck me as sort of a southern Sex and and the City. Sex in the sticks if you will. I'm taking HBO series as I've never read Candace Bushnell. My wife was a fan, but Sex and the City's humor missed for me as did the Sweet Potato Queens'. Here is a sample to illistrate my inability to relate ...

And panties -- Lord, deliver us from pretty panties. You just put them on and they immediately wedge up your butt, you don't even have to move. Thongs were a perfectly natural progression -- why not save all that extra material, they all end up in the same place anyway.



I sent a dozen queries on a variety of projects this week, but once again I ... 


Failed to so much as open the file on my bull semen story so that word count stays at 16,212.  this week. I did finish continued editing and tweaking Waiting On The River to get entered in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel contest.I also entered the opening of the bull semen story in Nathan Bransford's ...
The 4th Sort-of-Annual Stupendously Ultimate First Paragraph Challenge.

I was fortunate enough to beat out over 2500 other talented writers to win the 3rd Sort of Annual challenge with the opening of the Feedstore Chronicles and I've entered again to try and defend my crown ...

Grace McEwen was eight the first time she stood outside a closed door and listened to her mother squeal and sigh with pleasure. Thirty-one years later, she found the sounds just as awkward. Maybe more so, now that she fully understood the source of her mom’s vocal gratification. 

Two Line Tuesday is a blog feature started by the fabulous Women of Mystery. Click on over to their site for link to other writers sharing their work

Salamanders, Toads, And Naked Women -- Oh My! Amarillo, TX Circa 1984

It's my turn to host My Town Monday this week, but t be honest this post fits only in the fact it, and all my childhood stories took place in Amarillo.

We lived on the corner of Trigg and 32nd street. The same house, the same friends, the same neighborhood colored every one of my school years. As I got older what I considered entertainment and my motivations changed but looking back I have nothing but fond memories. Yeah I'm lucky to have escaped serious damage to myself or other given some of the crap we did but most of our activities were harmless.

Many of the best stories took place in the alleys behind our houses.

These alleys were wide gravel lined areas strips that for us were easier to navigate than the streets. The dumpsters offered places to duck behind during games of hide and seek, as well as other treasurers for those willing to get their hands dirty. Many homeowners neglected the narrow strip of lawn on the alley side of their fences and an adventuresome boy could crawl through the tall weeds and stomp out a shady place to laze away in secret. And then there was the water mains behind each house.


Heavy cast iron lids covered the holes but we quickly learned how to pry those up and look for critters inside. Toads, tiger salamanders, and a great variety of creepy crawly insects enjoyed living in the dark damp caverns of these water mains.

Mostly we were after the toads and salamanders, but if we spotted something cool like a big centipede or something we'd capture it as well.

We would each pick a toad or salamander and take it home for a few days where we kidded ourselves by claiming to train them. Then we'd get back together and see whose toad could hope the farthest or whose salamander could crawl the fastest.

Perhaps this was the beginning of my lifelong gambling addiction though none of my friends enjoyed risking their milk money quite as much as I did.

We did this for several spring summers without incident. Oh the occasional man would catch us digging in his water main and assume we were up to no good. He'd scream and shout and we'd take off giggling knowing no fat old man was going to run us down.

I remember the day it happened was a hot one. Fairly late in summer if I'm not mistaken. The July or perhaps August before my 6th grade year.

There were four of us and we'd already covered a couple of alleys, but it had been a hot dry summer so even down in the water mains there wasn't much moisture. Toads and salamanders were scarce but we kept up our search.

We pried the lid off a water main and there they were ...

Not reptiles but nubiles.

Women.

Naked women.

We'd unearthed a stash of porn mags.

When I say porn I'm not talking about tasteful, sophisticated  Playboys or even slightly cruder Penthouses. I'm talking sleazy hustler style porn.

I suppose I'd seen the female form before but never in such brazen glaring light as on display in that hot steamy alley. The things those women were doing defied logic to my 11 year old mind. There were 3 magazines but four of us. There might have been a fight except one kid shrugged off our discovery and announced, "Hell those ain't nothing. My dad has a whole closet full. Videos too."

The neighborhood I grew up in was lower middle class and VCR's were still expensive back in those days so not many of friends had one. And none of us had ever seen a porno tape much less watched one.

Quicker than you can say PeeWee Herman we were off to this kids house to substantiate his claim.

He was right. And looking back I do believe that was the last day we ever searched for toads or salamanders. Was our innocence stolen that day? I guess you could make that argument as our discovery led to a newfound appreciation of the opposite sex.

We divied up the three mags among those of us without a closet full of porn hidden at home. My brother found mine and absconded with it within the week which probably saved me trouble later down the road.

Of that group of friends not one of us became a rapist or sex fiend so you can't claim the experience scarred us too deeply. But I've often wondered about the person that stashed them there. Were they a kid like us trying to sneak a peak? Was it a husband looking to get his jollies without his wife finding out? Maybe that particular water main was simply the home of a scandalous and horny salamander.

So tell me fellas. When and how did you get your first good, full on look at a naked female. And ladies, feel free to expose your own salamander spotting experiences. 

For more My Town Monday post check out the links as I add them here and over at the official MTM blog. Feel free to join us by writing a post about something in your town or area. Should you crate such a post today or tomorrow I'd be glad to add your blog to the link parade.

LINKS

Barrie Summy practices her camping skills at Cibbets Flat Campground near Pine Valley, California. 

Laura K Curtis has a howling good time at the Mount Kisco, New York public library.

Friday Fricassee

More and more I realize how sheltered my boys are. Back in the day me and my friends freely roamed the entire southeast corner of Amarillo. from Whitaker road east of town all the way to Southeast park we rode our bikes and went wherever we wanted. We rarely ventured north of I-40 but we could of had we wanted.For those not from Amarillo we are talking about a large area. Perhaps 5 miles east to west and 3 or so north to east.

I get nervous allowing my boys to walk to the park a a few blocks from my house.Sure the times have changed but I think the real factor here is my own fear that my boys will do even half the crap I did. I was raised my a single mom. She worked and depended on my brother to keep my alive when she was away. Sad thing is my brother really shouldn't be entrusted with a  goldfish. Let's just say he is not and never has been of the responsible sort. Six years older than me he didn't care what I did long as I did it away from him.

What I enjoy most about this blog is having the opportunity to share stories with y'all. I have a lot of great stories from my free ranging childhood and I've decided to start sharing a few of those here. Starting Sunday and continuing most Sundays thereafter. Of course I'm prone to changing my mind regarding reoccurring blog features so don't hold a gun to my head. I will change the names of my buddies since they didn't agree to have our misspent youth trotted out on the blog for the world to read.  This week's story will be about naked women and salamanders.

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In other news I have decided not to go way back and enter my first novel in the Amazon contest. Yeah, I know I was all gung ho a few days ago, but I have since decided that last year's entry, Waiting On the River has a better shot of winning. And while I'd love to get a judge's take on that first novel I feel The alter book is more polished.

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Last night I dreamed  that I was working at a convenience store. Twice during my shift the joint was robbed. The first crook asked to use the restroom and upon his return brandished a clear pitcher full of yellow liquid. When out eyes met he screamed. "Give me all the fucking money right now or I'll fling hot piss on you." 

The 2nd dude wasn't as scary. He only had a gun.

Fell free to offer your interpretation of that one.  


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As previously mentioned I am coaching a storytelling competition for a group of 2nd graders. It is going well and this week I let them read me a story which I retold in the same fashion they are supposed to. When I finished one little girl looked up at with wide -eyes and said, "Wow, you are really good at this."


The awe in her voice made my week. Hope you had a great week as well. Would love to hear about your highlights this week so drop me a comment if you have time.