Monday, June 11, 2012

Writer POV - Aggravation

“Adversity, and perseverance and all these things can shape you. They can give you a value and a self-esteem that is priceless.” Scott Hamilton

The First Novel
A SlantedK Production
Got SlantedK?
Years to write, months to edit, and almost another year to sell it, a contract in hand six months past, now everything is in the hands of another. Second book in play, third concept in rough draft, and got the blog in full force.

Join blogger groups, join writer groups, discussions, forums, and many times one hears, “this is a labor of love.” If you write for money, forget it, if you are blogging for the big bucks don’t buy the Porsche just yet.

Recently a writer gave me a quote, “I ghost write for money, I write novels for the love of writing.”

A screw loose, the starving artist syndrome.

Write books, become a speaker to sell books, books make your resume, speaking sells your books. Your writing represents who you are; editing turns it into what everyone else says it should be.

"Clearly, a cycle of psychosis, a form of self-abuse indeed, the mind of one who still dreams the dream cannot be underestimated."

“Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish.” 
John Quincy Adams

Disappointment, aggravation, challenges with no visible end. Self inflicted punishment, yet we continue promoting, hoping, and driving forward.

“Great works are performed not by strength but by perseverance.” Samuel Johnson

“I do not think that there is any other quality as essential to success of any kind as the quality of perseverance. It overcomes almost everything, even nature.” 
John D. Rockefeller


If ya feel like sticking around, I have some of my new work to share. If not, that is fine.
Have a Great Day & Thanks for Stopping by!

Pride I have and a desire to tell tales, I share an excerpt from the second installment, continuing the first book floating in publisher limbo.


     Wet, wet, wet, that’s the only way to describe spring in Oklahoma. I wasn’t more than five hours outside of Tulsa, warm dry boarding, whiskey, gambln’ and ladies. Engulfed in a tirade of Mother Nature, with horizontal rain and piercing cold water amidst the black of the night. Wind gusts so powerful that make you think the next blast will throw the whole camp into oblivion.
     Every bolt of lightning revealed the next wall of water drawing near. The latest discharge of thunder confirmed this was going to be a location of serious discomfort. Sure as shit, the next lightning strike eliminated any doubt the stress level was going to increase. Because, with that last flash of light I could see with full clarity in the distance; lighting bolts horizontal and vertical weaving through an Oklahoma special, a twister of enormous size and power.
     The situations of the past paled in comparison to the fear or concern of that moment, for that night I stared eye to eye with a twister. Nothing I could do, nothing at all, no shooter tricks; diversions, fast talking, perfect shooting, best reflex, nothing could assist that set of circumstances.  
     Pray I did; just let this incredible force of nature go in any direction avoiding the course including this camp. Soaked to the bone, constantly wiped water from my eyes, no way to improve the quality of cover, the horses were struggling, nothing I could do to help them stay calm. Then it happened, the rain faded, wind calmed, providing an unwelcome sign. When the rain stopped, it signified the close proximity of the impending twister. 
     Crawled to the horses to make every effort to grab the reins and get them to the ground. They were too agitated. Together in the eye of the storm, another flash of light and there it was, looked a mile wide, lightning again in every direction, hell was taking a walk, pacing slow, assuring maximum destructive efforts. The mind strained the eyes to see; to no avail, the night was blacker than black, in between strikes of lightning. 
      Took a deep breath, another prayer; so cold, so powerless, an insignificant speck in comparison to the twister. Life and death held in the fury of nature’s phenomena. Will my body and spirit be defeated, was everything I learned and done insignificant, all my actions and decisions about to come due?  The reaper did not have the balls to make an appearance in that place. The devil himself would run scared and crying without a doubt. The loudest ear breaking sound erupted; I had to cover my ears, greater than Derby’s casino project exploding.   
     I was in the wrong place in a bad way! The horses vaulted and were gone to the right faster than ever. This was it, for all I’d done, all my abilities to walk away victorious, I faced the possibility of death, totally defenseless. A tree to my far left first creaked, a vicious sound, then snapped, I couldn’t see it, but I have been witness to a tree being hit by a canon and there is no mistaking that a fine oak was just broken into pieces.  
     Louder and louder, I could no longer hear my own screams; wind slammed the skin harder than the last 2x4 that hit me in Missouri. I grabbed my whip; tied down to the exposed root of what I hope was an oak tree that had survived many twisters, praying that the tree had one survival left in it.
     Unable to see a damn thing, probably best that way, held tight with every part of my being, struck in the face with something very solid. Down and bleeding, pelted continuously by chunks of rock, dirt, wood and hell itself; the next flash of lighting was the last memory of that night. A flash, bright as the sun, in that instant, to the left, a clear view of the monster twister, shredding, ripping, directly to the front, a very large tree, no longer rooted in the ground, airborne, slammed directly into the one I was tied to. I screamed my last, as if silent against a volume of intense, severe noise and destruction...


How much did ya think I was going to put up? J
And NOW!
For Something Totally Different.

1 comment:

  1. Funny, that sounds like my upcoming book, except it was months to write (2 1/2), a year to edit and a year to submit before landing a publisher. And I'm sure the process will start all over again as I'm working on a novella that is about three years in the making, while I'm waiting for the first one to come to fruition.