Batter Up!

This is a post I've been meaning to write for a while , but as this story illustrates good intentions are not always enough.

Amarillo isn't exactly known for professional sports, unless you count the heydays of pro wrestling back in the 60s and 70s but we have had a few, minor league independent type teams here. And for the most part these teams have had hideous nicknames.

A hockey team called the Amarillo Gorillas and a baseball team dubbed the Amarillo Dillas being the worst of the bunch.

Way back when we had an actual major league affiliated baseball club called the Gold Sox. The Gold Sox were affiliated with a  variety of teams over the years, The Baltimore Orioles, The New York Yankees, The Chicago Cubs, and for the last time the Sand Diego Padres, But the team was moved in 1982 and though we've had a variety of independent teams since then they have mostly been teams devoid of name talent or operating capital.

The Dillas finally died a death of bankruptcy last year and we got a new independent team this year. Paying homage to the teams of yesteryear the dubbed this new team the Sox.

Deciding the squad needed a mascot they hired a California firm to design  one.

The plan was to name it Socks.

The result was riDICulous.

Needless to say the mascot was booed out of the stadium on the first night.

They have since brought out a new mascot.

So in baseball terms, the Amarillo Sox have gone from a bat to ball.

Sex Scenes With Travis

 Don't get excited by that title. Okay so most, if not all, of you probably shuddered more than tingled at the mental imagery of the title. Nevertheless this blog is not a peak into my bedroom. Instead, it is a peak at a friend of mine. And trust me, she is a hell of a lot prettier than me so the view is much better.

I have long been a fan of Betsy Dornbusch's blog which has one of the best titles in all of the blogosphere ... Sex Scenes at Starbucks. 

In honor of the release of her new, erotica Sci-Fi romance LOST PRINCE, SALT ROAD SAGA Book 1

 

Yes, Ainsley is Betsy's pseudonym, but don't tell anyone ... it's a secret. 

Ownership of Art

Betsy Dornbusch

Even before the moment of conception, ownership of art shifts. Ideas aren’t single entities but a amalgamation of concepts stimulated by the world around us. Or, in smaller words for the short bus types: There ain’t nothing new under the sun. Art can’t happen in a vacuum. The moment an idea forms it’s already belonged to other people, rather in the manner a Long Island Iced Tea is the sum total of its parts, except more, oh so much more. Anyway, the point is, get over yourself already. Your idea is not your own. It never was and it never will be.

I spend a lot of time at thinking and trying for Original. (True story: my eye doc told me to stare out the window often to keep me from getting eye strain. I was all, “Dude. I’m a writer. That’s what I do.”) Maybe some writers just barf their brilliance onto the page; not so much me. It often feels like Day One of Genesis. (When does “and on the seventh day she rested” come in, huh? I know very few writers who take a day off, like, ever.) But what we’re actually doing is making connections between all the disparaging bits of things we know and think we know and the requisite Wikipedia misinformation.

But it’s so solitary to sit and stare that the influences of the past isn’t always obvious. So we think this ugly baby is ours and ours alone. I liken it to that point in the evening where you’ve hit your stride with drinks and you walk to the bathroom and people are looking at you and you’re thinking “Dude, I’m all catwalk.” But you’re actually just staggering drunk. At this stage we really have no idea what we’re doing or what led us to this point.

Then reality sets in. We make the transition of putting our words out there in front of people. It’s worth noting that this stage is a spike in sharing; here, we’re actually asking people to influence our work. Hey. We’re writers. Nobody every said we were smart. Or sane. Or sober. So for the love of God let these readers be a decent beta or a critique group.

And then the editor takes it. We might not be asking, but we’re going to get more influence anyway, whether we like it or not. I pray you get a good one.

And then, finally, readership. Hopefully the sort that pays rather than pirates. (Don’t pirate, people. You’re not as cute as Jack Sparrow, I promise.)

And here’s where the sharing really comes into play, because all along, while you thought this thing was yours, you’ve had to make room for the reader. They are going to drip your story through their own crusty coffee filter. Nothing you can do about it. Just make sure you don’t overfill the water tank.

*eye color figures somewhat prominently in LOST PRINCE. I kind of did it as a joke. There, trivia you know that no one else does.

Visit Sex Scenes at Starbucks to find out more about LOST PRINCE, read an excerpt, and learn about the author. http://betsydornbusch.com

Buy the book at Whiskey Creek Press

The only thing that’s kept Alaric, the so-called Lost Prince of Calixte, from giving into his grief over his beloved homeworld is the thought of revenge against the man who betrayed his people. But he couldn’t be more wrong about Haydn, who actually saved two thousand Calixten soldiers from certain death and secreted them on an inhospitable planet. There, they’ve launched a fledgling rebellion against the Coalition that rules six galaxies, including the lucrative Salt Road. They only need their prince to lead them.

Alaric needs a pilot to get him to his soldiers, someone too desperate to betray him. Katriel, a hotshot deserter pilot enslaved to Haydn by debt, is perfect for the job. But neither Katriel nor Alaric realize how the battle over Calixte binds them closer than blood, and when they find out, their collision will send shockwaves through the universe.

Popping In

I remember the good old days when I had the time, energy, and inspiration to blog 5 or 6 days a week. Of course then i was simply a dreamer, a wanna be writer.Some of those dreams have come true and with every one that does my time dwindles away.

I'm not complaining so much as I am explaining my absence not only at this blog but yours as well. Soon my freelancing football gig will end for the year, and my Lettuce Is The Devil proposal package will be polished and in the hands of my agent so I hope to do better.

I've also been promoting Whispers by doing a few interviews around the blogosphere.

Today I'm at ONE THE FRONT PORCH :musing of a southern belle talking about french prostitutes, and who would win in a showdown between Andy Taylor and Matt Dillon.

Yesterday I was at This Writing Life talking about writing and motivation.

I'm going to be stopping by a few more blogs so I'll keep y'all posted on my whereabouts and I'll try to stop in and visit y'all as well.

Get It For Your KIds but Make Sure You Read It As Well

Some months ago I was lucky enough to score an advanced readers copy of this book.

I loved the book and finished it all too quickly because I simply couldn't put it down. At 38 I'm far older than its intended audience but I connected with Joshua right off the bat. Here is a description of the book I stole from Amazon.

Joshua Reed is used to moving around since his dad became an Army recruiter and the Vietnam War broke out. But their newest home, in the mountains of Pennsylvania, feels special somehow. Josh has started to make a new friend, his dad has finally allowed him to get a dog, and Jack-with his strange glowing ears and the way he seems to understand Josh's feelings-is like no other dog Josh has ever seen. But in Vietnam-era America, conflict is never far away-even on the homefront. When a local boy is killed overseas, the town turns on the new army recruiter. And when a few late-night disturbances all point to Jack, it will be up to Josh to fight for his dog, his family, and his new home.

Beyond the fact that the story captivated me I loved the book for it's ability educate and shed light on a time and mindset that few kids today have thought about. Given the first person POV Danette did an outstanding presenting the dilemma from several different angles. I passed the the book to my boys (8 and 10) and they loved it as much as I did.

Danette is a blog friend of long standing and while I've enjoyed her previous books, me & jack is one of those titles that I am eager to stand on the roof top and shout about. 

Pappa Bear

Father's Day is fast approaching.

I feel somewhat obligated to point this fact out since Dad's Day doesn't garner to same hoopla or media push as Mother's Day. Of sure we get a few sales in our honor. On things like lawnmowers, power tools, and rototillers. Things to make us do more work.

Why don't they slash the price of vacuum cleaners and washing machines for Mother's Day?

I'll tell you why. Because women would get pissed if we bought them those things. No we get force fed jewelry commercials and spa packages.

Here at the post office mail picks up in the days preceding Mother's day. Thick pink and other pastel colored envelopes color the mail as sons and daughters mail off profession of their maternal love and thanks.There is no spike in mail for Father's Day.

I'm not bitter, or even fishing for a father's day present myself. Just stating the obvious.

Actually this year I am giving my wife a present. Two days of rest and relaxation as me and my boys are headed camping for the weekend. Hopefully the fish will be biting and the temps will not get to high above 100.

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I would like to thank to two particular father who had absolutely nothing with my own entry into this world.

Charles Posey and Charles Gramlich both showed my e-book Whispers some love in recent blog posts and I thank them for helping spread the word.

Should you wish to pick up your own copy of Whispers you can do so here or here for the low sum of 99 cents.

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And speaking of Dad's, the main character in Christopher Moore's novel A Dirty Job is a hilarious one.

I'm a big fan of Moore's brand of quirky macabre humor and A Dirty Job novel only added to my fandom.

From Bookmarks Magazine

It's certainly original. Even the harshest critic can't begrudge Christopher Moore his vivid imagination, satirical plots, and humor. Like a good sleight-of-hand artist, Moore builds up a huge reserve of goodwill to pull off his most demanding trick yet: laughing at death.

So you getting your dear old pop's anything exciting. Might I suggest a book or three? There is always a starving author  out there ready to share a good tale.

Read A Dirty Job? What did you think?

Cracking Up In Amarillo -- A My Town Monday Post

A desert is defined as an area that receives less than 10 inches of rain a year.

Here it is June 12, nearly half way into the year and Amarillo has received exactly .68 inches of moisture since January 1st. At this rate we'll have an entire inch and half of moisture before baby new year next arrives.

Just this afternoon my boys and I rode bikes to the nearest city park, where I snapped this picture.

I'm not sure how often the city is watering these days but I water every other day and still this is a crack from my own lawn. The clothespin is there to give perspective to the width and length of the crack.

 

Luckily not all of my yard looks this way, but this patch is on a slanted south side of my yard. Not only does it bear the brunt of a full days sun without shade but the ground is so hard at this point the water tends to run off rather than soak in.

Along with no rain. we have had high temps with many days above 100 already this year and summer isn't even officially here.

We've had even higher wind speeds than normal which have fueled dozens of wildfires leading to 2.8 million acres burnt statewide and more than fifty homes in the Texas Panhandle alone.

Cattle prices are starting to drop because ranchers are selling their herds due to a lack of grazeable ranch land.

It's been a hot brutal year here in Amarillo while other parts of our country have dealt with floods and deadly tornadoes. Not sure who pissed off mother nature but somebody buy that gal a sic pack of wine coolers and tell her to chill.

For more My Town Monday posts visit the official MTM site or check out these links.

Jim Winter -- The return of Giant Jesus in Cincinnati, Ohio. 

Debra Bures cleans out a room and discovers the past in Village of Peninsula, Ohio

Barrie Summy stops to smell the roses following a school visit in San Diego, CA

Help Me Buy A New Shirt

I've made it no secret that despite being a native Texan, I am a diehard Nebraska Cornhusker fan and yet I sit here typing up this post wearing a t-shirt that reads "I AM A BOILERMAKER". Yes, Purdue is one of my beloved Huskers Big 10 conference rivals so while it feels a tad traitorous there are three reasons why I am able to actually wear the shirt.  (And yeah I realize this is a crappy picture but I haven't mastered the art of the self portrait just yet.)

1) It is booty and pirates loves booty. I won the short by winning my blogging pal Phats' basketball bracket back in March.

2) It is black and gold. The colors of my fave NFL team ... The New Orleans Saints.

3) Purdue is the alma mater of the man, the legend, the best QB in Saints history Drew Brees.

In other news my mini collection of stories is now up and available at Amazon for reading on your kindle or PC. Actually it has been up for a while but I was waiting on Barnes and Nobel to make it available for the nook as well. Not sure what the hold up is but since they are taking their sweet ass time I figured I'd go ahead and announce it's availability on Amazon.

If I'm being completely honest, I'm putting these stores out there for myself more than anything else, but it is my hope that for the low sum of  99 cents Whispers worth your time and money as well. The stories are fairly short but I hope you will enjoy them and if so please mention Whispers on your blog, facebook, and twitter accounts. I''ll be indebted to those who help me spread the word.

If you do not have a kindle but would like to read the collection you can download a free kindle app for either your smart phone or PC.