Q & Al Make Worcester's Telegram & Gazette

Dear Readers,

A new blog post is forthcoming, I promise.

Here's something to hold you over:

Click here: 'Living on Words'

 
To be continued, and please keep being you.

Q

Are you a real writer?

Dear Readers,

Last Friday there was a lot of TSLP movie buzz, which you can read about here: Vulture, The Playlist, or The Weinstein Company. I've been on the David-O.-Russell-Mark-Wahlberg train since THREE KINGS. I also loved Wahlberg in I HEART HUCKABEES. Thought THE FIGHTER was fantastic. So I really hope this latest bit of gossip sticks and the film gets made soonish--mostly because I'd LOVE to see it.

THE SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK began as an essay I wrote back when I was teaching. The essay was about the Philadelphia Eagles and my father. I mustered up the courage to show that essay to a few friends who read it and were supportive, albeit a bit confused about my asking for feedback. Back then, my dream of writing full-time was a secret.

One friend returned the essay with a copy of Pat Conroy's excellent MY LOSING SEASON and a note that read, 'A book for the next Pat Conroy.'

I remember feeling mixed up when I read the note.

Was my friend making fun of me, or did he seriously think I had the potential to be a 'real writer' like Pat Conroy?

There was part of me that wanted to believe my writing would someday make me a household name. That maybe my work would be adapted like THE PRINCE OF TIDES. And as I stood there in the main office, in front of the teacher mailboxes, in which my friend had left the Conroy book, my body tingled with thoughts of Maybe and Why Not?

But then the rational side of my brain began to scream, "You're a high school English teacher! You grew up in a blue-collar town! You didn't exactly go to Harvard or Iowa! Who the hell do you think you are, dreaming about being a fiction writer? Movie deals even! Have you lost your grip? Don't set yourself up for disappointment. Know your limitations."

Back during my teaching years, I dreamed of doing an MFA program, writing full-time and finally feeling like a real writer. But when I quit my job and enrolled at Goddard, the doubts and demons stayed with me. So I decided that I needed to publish a short story to feel like a real writer. Once I published a short story, I thought I needed to make money as a writer, before I could justify calling myself one. When I sold my first personal essay, I decided I needed a literary agent. Then I needed to sell a novel. Then another one. Then I felt as though I needed better sales figures. To make a best-seller list. There was no end to the things I thought I needed to accomplish before I would feel like a 'real writer.'

And, of course, now I wonder if seeing my first novel adapted for screen by one of my favorite directors will slay the demons of doubt forever.

If only the movie gets made this summer, perhaps I will finally get to feel like a real writer!

The hard truth I am learning is this: there is no bullet-proof accolade that will keep you feeling like a real writer for the rest of your life.

The artistic life is bi-polar. You feel very good and in control sometimes, and then you don't. Highs and lows.

But writers get up every day--regardless of any (or a lack of) prior successes--and try to write as much as they can. Some days feel like failures, others make you feel like you can fly or breathe under water. But real writers keep writing regardless. Real writers find a way to get the words down on the page and then they revise and revise and revise in an attempt to connect with an audience, if only for a moment or so. Real writers do the work, and continue to do it through the good and rough patches. Real writers find ways to maintain faith in their abilities and in their craft--if not every single day, then at least over the long haul.

I look back now on the day my old teaching friend called me the next Pat Conroy. And even with news of Mark Wahlberg, David O. Russell, and Harvey Weinstein working hard to get TSLP up onto the big screen, there is still part of me that believes my name should never be mentioned in the same sentence as Pat Conroy. I look up to the man, as I do many other writers. And I am intimately acquainted with my own limitations.

But then there's another part of me--the part that quit teaching, sat down at a desk, and did the work. And that part says, Q, hell yes, you are a real writer! Stop worrying! Don't compare yourself to others! Just write! And then that part of me sings a song parody of Lady Gaga's JUST DANCE. Just write. Gonna be okay! Da da doo-doo-mmm!

While praise and success helps, we must anoint ourselves if we want to be writers. We have to believe wildly when no on else does, regardless of what comes to us and what doesn't. And we have to cultivate that belief from within--always. It doesn't get easier as you progress down the professional road, but if the good stuff is in you, it's always in you, no matter how clouded your mind may get, no matter how many demons attack.

Regardless of whether THE SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK movie gets made, I need to protect and nurture the part of me that believes I am a real writer, just like I did when I was teaching high school English and hadn't yet published anything. And regardless of where you are in your artistic career--whether you have received many accolades, a few, or none--you must do the same.

To be continued, and please keep being you.

Q

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Q's Conversation With Doug Worgul, Novelist, Barbecue & Whiskey Enthusiast

Dear Readers,

Awhile back my UK publisher asked me to blurb a book by a first-time American author named Doug Worgul. They felt the book in question was right for me, implying that it was similar to my work.

Stylistically and structurally, it wasn't so similar. Thematically, it very much was.

Shortly after the manu made its trip across the Atlantic, I found myself immersed in the world of THIN BLUE SMOKE and in love with the characters who inhabited its pages.

I sent my blurb to the UK--"As Norman Maclean’s A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT does for Montana fly-fishing, Doug Worgul's THIN BLUE SMOKE makes the poetry of Kansas City barbecue accessible to all readers. ... Communion has never tasted so good.”--and rushed to contact Doug via e-mail.

As it so often happens, the author of the book I enjoyed turned out to be a great person. We've become e-mail friends. I've since described Doug as Kansas City's answer to Pat Conroy.

Below you will find our most recent discussion. Please welcome Doug Worgul.

Q: As you already know, I absolutely loved THIN BLUE SMOKE. From where did this bighearted absorbing novel come? Why did you write it? Tell us!

DW: Well, there was a story in me that needed to come out, and it happened to be Thin Blue Smoke. Lots of writers talk about their stories as if those stories have some sort of preexisting autonomous life independent of them as writers. I'll admit that to a certain extent I experienced the writing of Thin Blue Smoke in that way. However, writing the book was hard creative work. I created this story. I made it. I wasn’t just the scribe writing a story that the characters were narrating to me. I gave the characters their lives. But the book did feel like it grew from a seed that was planted in me. In my soul. Does that all sound contradictory? Probably.

Q: Makes perfect sense to me. It’s a balance between the conscious and the subconscious always, or the art of making preconscious conscious; shaping to illuminate what was previously in shadow, I’ve heard other writers say. You say the book grew from ‘a seed.’ Looking back now, having harvested, can you describe that seed in one sentence?

DW: Like a movie pitch? Probably not. But mainly it’s about love and redemption and belonging to one another. But that doesn’t get all of it.

Q: When I was an MFA candidate I heard many published writers say, “Write the book that only you can write,” which sounded a little esoteric at the time. I remember thinking, How could anyone else write my book? But I have since come to understand that readers are looking for a unique point of view, the product of one-of-a-kind life experiences, and so it's best for writers to offer up their truths and nothing but. TBS is one of the most authentic-feeling books I have ever read. I felt like I knew you intimately after reading, and yet the book never came close to reading like veiled memoir. How did you accomplish this?

DW: The themes and questions raised in Thin Blue Smoke are themes and questions that have characterized my life. Love, loss, squandered gifts, despair, hope, the relationships between fathers and sons, the silence of God, race, whiskey, the blues, second chances, and barbecue. My hope was to create a story that communicated something about these things in an authentic way, with slightly more humor than not.

After my wife Rebecca read the novel she told me that there was something of me in each of the main male characters, and that there was something of her in each of the main female characters. That’s a good insight. And it was probably inevitable. It’s not a story about the facts of my life. But it is a story about the truth of my life.

Q: I loved the characters, especially the men, all of whom were fully developed and so so human. I felt as though your men were strong, but emotionally vulnerable at the same time. Male friendship was explored in a serious thoughtful manner too, which I appreciated. Could you talk about your inspirations and process for creating such characters?

DW: Thin Blue Smoke is not a plot-driven novel. It’s character driven. I’ve always admired Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon monologues on his radio program “Prairie Home Companion.” He’s an absolute master of creating characters that his listeners come to know and care deeply for over time. It’s his characters that drive the stories of Lake Wobegon. Also, at the time I was writing the early chapters of the novel I was watching the HBO series “Deadwood,” which is perhaps my favorite television show ever. “Deadwood” was also mainly character driven. Its plot arc developed very slowly, which gave viewers a chance to develop strong feelings about the characters. That was my goal for Thin Blue Smoke. The things I wanted to say in the story I wanted to say through the characters, rather than through the action, or the plot. It’s not devoid of plot. But the characters are the main thing.

The male characters are the focus of the story. I suppose that’s because I’m a man. That’s how I’ve experienced the world. I also wanted to explore father and son relationships and how, for better and worse, they shape the lives of men. And the story and the characters would not have resonated with readers if I hadn’t been honest about the vulnerability of the characters, their weaknesses as well as their strengths. This goes for all the characters, even those that aren’t as lovable or likable as others. 

My objective was to create whole people.

Q: If I remember correctly, you published without an agent, right? Please tell us about your path to publication.

DW: The path to publication was the road less traveled, in my case. I always feel somewhat guilty telling other writers about my experience because it was so smooth and easy and not at all what I know most other authors experience.

I finished the novel over Labor Day weekend 2007. I then took the next several weeks to polish and fine tune the manuscript. During that time my sister, who is also a writer (it runs in the family), learned about a program offered by the publisher Macmillan (UK) which was accepting manuscripts directly from writers, represented by an agent or not. The premise of this program was the belief that many writers who don’t have agents have nevertheless produced novels worth considering for publication. The purpose of the program was to discover new writing talent and publish their work. So, I e-mailed my manuscript to them in late October and on November 17 I received an e-mail from a Macmillan editor telling me that he’d like to published the book. So, no multiple submissions. No rejection letters. Just one submission to one publisher and that was that.

The Macmillan New Writers program offers a take-it-or-leave it contract that provides no advance in return for a higher share of net revenue. It’s a two book contract, in that Macmillan is given right-of-first-refusal on the author’s second manuscript. Which I have thus far failed to produce. 

Q: Would you like an agent now, or are you content without one? Are there advantages to being agentless?

DW: I do not have an agent now. I think I’d like to have one. But, frankly, I’m not willing to do whatever work I might need to do to find one. I’d rather focus that effort on the second book. However, if a reputable agent were to approach me on the strength of Thin Blue Smoke, I’d be thrilled. I don’t have any experience with an agent, so I can’t really offer an opinion about the relative advantages or disadvantages of having or not having an agent.

 

Q: Food and drink play a large role in the story. Barbecue and whiskey, in particular. While reading, the word that kept coming to mind over and over again was communion. The book is somewhat about religion too. Bourbon and smoked meats are not necessarily words that are readily associated with spirituality in most American circles. Can you tell us more about the link between food, alcohol and spirituality in the book?

DW: Communion is implied. It’s an image or idea that I hoped would come to mind in the reading of the story. In the novel, barbecue tends to bring people together. It’s communal and familial. The process of making barbecue is slow. But the result is a feast. And barbecue takes the lowliest cuts of meat and makes something heavenly of them.

Whiskey tends to be more reflective. More inward looking. Which can be dangerous or self indulgent. Sharing a drink with someone is much more intimate than sharing a meal. And drinking alone is either contemplative or sad. Or both.

Q: One of my favorite scenes is when LaVerne and Angela share a moment on the Kansas City Athletics’ field after all of the fans and players have left for the night. It’s a simple, but beautiful scene. Baseball plays an important role in the book. I’ve heard people compare modern stadiums to cathedrals. The scene felt holy to me in some ways. Please talk about that scene and your choice to write about baseball throughout the book.

DW: The first character that came to me was LaVerne. I knew from the start he would be a black ex-pro athlete. Actually, he was a character from another story that migrated into this book. When I decided that LaVerne would grow up poor in a tiny little east Texas town it seemed most likely that baseball would be his sport, not football, which his school couldn’t afford. Also, baseball is a more poetic sport.

The scene you’re referring to is holy. It’s when LaVerne and Angela meet and fall in love, which is a holy moment in a relationship. The scene also takes place on the night Satchel Paige pitched for the last time in a major league ball game. The details of that aspect of the scene are factual. The actual event was described in wonderful loving detail in a Kansas City Star article written the night of the game. I credit the writer, Richard J. Olive, in my acknowledgments. Satchel Paige was/is a true and righteous legend. A transcendent personality. That gives the scene a certain weight.  

Q: As you said above, this is a character-driven novel. It’s also an in-depth look at the history of a place and its people. Please tell us about the challenges of keeping reader interest when you have so much information to convey. What techniques did you use to keep readers turning the pages?

DW: The trick is to create characters that are real and accessible, yet more interesting than the people that readers are likely to encounter in their daily lives. There has to be a balance of sad and funny, as there is in ordinary everyday life, but there also has to be enough out-of-the-ordinary in the lives of the characters that readers stay engaged and curious.

And, as a former newspaper and magazine journalist whose main beat was writing about the cultural and civic identity of Kansas City, I was keenly interested in communicating a strong sense of Kansas City as a unique place. I was hoping that readers would care about Kansas City in the same way they care about the characters in the story. To do that, I knew I’d have to weave lots of interesting and unusual details about the place into the narrative.

Ultimately, I wrote the kind of book I like reading. It seems to have turned out alright.

Q: You are not a full-time novelist, right? Many of my readers are also writers currently working ‘day jobs’ to pay the bills. Tell us about your nine-to-five and how you found the time and energy to write such an accomplished novel. What advice do you have for up-and-coming novelists who need to make a living while they write?

DW: My current — and hopefully final — gig is Director of Marketing at Oklahoma Joe’s BBQ in Kansas City. It’s an awesome job. Oklahoma Joe’s is probably the most popular barbecue joint on the planet right now. Anthony Bourdain named us as “One of Thirteen Places to Eat Before You Die.”

Most of the time I was writing Thin Blue Smoke I was an editor and writer at The Kansas City Star. I was deeply frustrated with my assignment at the newspaper at that time and desperately needed something to fill the creative and spiritual void I was experiencing and the novel emerged from that place of profound unhappiness. I wrote every spare minute I could find. Often it was only a sentence. I kept my notebook with me at all times and would makes notes or write passages no matter where I was. I know that my family suffered a loss of my attention and presence while I was writing, and I don’t feel wonderful about that. But at the time it seemed like a lifeline I had to hang on to.

I’m working on a second novel now and it’s coming very slowly. Slowly with a capital slow. It may be that I only had the one novel in me. I worry about that. But it’s more likely that it’s coming slowly because I’m happier now than I was when I wrote Thin Blue Smoke. I also live in a busy child-centric household and I’m generally unwilling to trade attendance at my fifteen-year-old’s basketball game or my twelve-year-old’s musical for a couple of hours writing. Having said that, I do want my children (four daughters) to know that writing is at the very core of my identity and that what I have written is one of the most important things I will leave behind for them. They understand that sometimes sacrifice is necessary to fulfill a calling.

It’s rare that novelists can work at it full-time. Even heavyweights like Marilynne Robinson have day jobs. My only advice is to try to make time every day for a little writing. It takes a lot of discipline. It helps to have a supportive family. But there’s no secret formula.

Q: What do you hope readers will take away from TBS?

DW: It’s most rewarding for me when readers tell me that they were moved, that the story touched them at an emotional or spiritual level. It’s also very satisfying when readers tell me they laughed. But there’s not a lesson or moral that I hope readers will take away. Mostly I just want readers to love these characters as I love them, and to care what happens to them.

Q: Thanks so much for your time, Doug, and also for your good words.

Good news, readers! I'm giving away two paperback copies of THIN BLUE SMOKE. To be entered into the giveaway, just make a comment below. I'm sure Doug will be following along, so feel free to write directly to him here. If you wish to purchase THIN BLUE SMOKE, please do so. I've added links below for your convenience.

Buy TBS: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Indiebound / Powell's

To be continued, and please keep being you.

Q

The Comments Section Is Fixed!

Dear Readers,

Some of you were unable to make comments on the first couple posts. This depressed me terribly. Rest assured, I aim to foster a community and am eager to read your responses. Heck, I hope you will discuss, make friends, and feel very at home in the comments section. Something had to be done!

After Googling and a bit of trial and error, I converted the comments section to a pop-up window format and that seems to have fixed the problem.

So give it a go.

Comment away.

And please let me know if you are still unable to have your say.

Thanks to Heather and Bill for the feedback!

To be continued, and please keep being you.

Q

Want to put your true self into the world? (Making true allies and friends!)

Dear Readers,

A conversation I had several years ago haunts me in the best of ways. It was with a Goddard advisor (professor), back when I was a Creative Writing MFA student. During a break, in between lectures, I approached her.

She must have been talking about the courage needed to write difficult material, because I remember being moved enough to say, “I’m so scared that the me my friends and family know is not the me in my work. I’m afraid that if I publish, they will hate me.”

I’ve always been able to blend in socially, but—halfway through the MFA experience—I was learning that writing something good is the exact opposite of blending in, that being an artist means taking risks, making yourself vulnerable, and sometimes sacrificing social alliances in search of your own personal truths.

Writing (especially publishing) is sticking out.

            The advisor laughed knowingly, as if she had seen the look on my face many times before, and she said something reassuring like, “If you publish, your parents will be proud of you. If not immediately, then in the long run. Having a published author in the family is quite a thing. And your friends are the people who make you feel as though you can do the work you feel called to do. If they make you feel otherwise, they’re not your friends.”

            Back when I was at Goddard, I was groping, trying clumsily to figure out who I was, what type of writer I wanted to be—hoping to establish some sort of identity.

            I was reading Haruki Murakami and Gao Xingjian and experimenting with the absurdist genre. I told myself that I was high-minded, literary—that I was pushing myself. But really, I was hoping to impress my advisors; I was imitating, writing what I thought creative writing students should write. Or maybe I was just hiding.

            Every now and then I wrote something that scared the shit out of me.
            At first, these terrifying pieces were personal essays I typed while feeling emotionally vulnerable and/or upset. I remember writing one after having an argument with a friend, and another after a disagreement with a family member. I didn’t really think about what I should have been writing or how my words would be perceived. I just allowed myself to write the truth—or maybe my truth—without censoring myself. These essays were written rather quickly, and while I did edit and shape afterward, the first drafts were not so different from the final product, and came much easier than the work I labored over with my advisors and yet somehow never seemed to get right.

            When I started to submit my personal essays to literary magazines, I was hopeful, but there was part of me that never believed the pieces would ever be published. So when a few were accepted, I suffered crippling anxiety attacks.

            I worried that I had erred somehow by committing all of my innermost thoughts—what most people keep to themselves—to the page. Mostly, I worried that there would be consequences for expressing myself honestly, especially since I had written about my personal life.

            Alicia (my wife, AKA Al) has always been my sanity. During those first few publishing induced freak-outs, I asked her a series of questions. They are the same questions I ask her whenever I am about to publish (and inevitably freak out).

            ME: Am I insane?

            Alicia: No.

            ME: Is the piece good enough?

            Al: They wouldn’t be publishing it if it weren’t.

            ME: Is it authentically me?
            Al: I wouldn’t have let you send it out if it weren’t.

            ME: Is everything going to be okay?

            Al: I can’t promise you that.

            ME: Why not?

            Al: I’m not God.

            ME: Do you think anyone will be pissed?

            Al: Who knows? Maybe.

            ME: WHAT? You’re supposed to say no!

            Al: I’m not going to lie to you. People are unpredictable. Good work usually challenges, divides, takes people out of their comfort zones, creates debate. Not everyone likes that.

ME: Are people going to hate me?

            Al: You did the best you could and wrote as honestly as possible. The people who truly know you and love you for who you are will always understand and support you.

            That last Al answer is a big one.

            When I look back at all I have written since 2004, I’ve come to believe that the small percentage of work I’ve managed to publish is the most accurate expression of me—and that fact is not coincidental.

            A few people along the way—friends, family members, and strangers—didn’t like what I published for various reasons. I’ve lost a few close friends. There have definitely been some rough patches, which I will tell you about later on.

Turns out, my parents are proud of my work and me. They struggled with some of it, were surprised at times because the me they saw on the page was not always the me they thought they knew. I’ve had some difficult conversations with my mother, regarding my work, but I’ve managed to let my family know who I truly am—a sensitive guy who struggles with anxiety issues, who likes to drink whiskey, whose mind takes him through great highs and lows, who feels the world strongly (maybe too strongly), and who has a lot of questions. Being honest about it all, expressing myself has definitely been good for my mental health.

My religious grandmother crossed out all of the curse words in THE SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK before she lent it to her friends, but she read it and felt proud enough to share it with others, which sort of amazes me.

I have a core group of friends who show up to all of my events, even though they aren’t big readers and may or may not care for my work.

When you choose the life of an artist, you definitely leave people behind.

But you also move closer toward other like-minded individuals.

My work has put me in contact with writers who understand my need to do what I do, people who have the same strong impulse.

When THE SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK was published in the UK, British novelist, Liz Jensen, wrote a line of praise. Through Picador I sent Liz a thank-you e-mail. To my surprise, she wrote back.

So I read her fantastic book THE NINTH LIFE OF LOUIS DRAX and let her know what I thought via e-mail.

Liz wrote back again and an international friendship was hatched.

I’ve been exchanging e-mails with Liz for more than two years now.

We live in different countries.

We were born in different decades.

We’ve had very different life experiences.

But when her husband, Carsten Jensen—who wrote the amazing must-read WE, THE DROWNED—was on book tour last week here in the US, Liz decided to drop in on us for two days, by way of Buffalo, and the conversation never once slowed.

For 48 hours we talked writing and publishing.

We read each other’s work.

We laughed.

We drank much wine.

We ate good food.

We Skyped with Carsten.

And when I put Liz on a train to NYC last Friday, I felt a strong happy sadness.

Sad that our visit had ended so quickly.

Happy that putting my work into the world has led to such a good unlikely friendship, making me feel less alone.

I thought about how terrified I was back at Goddard—how expressing my truths seemed so dangerous. And yet, by facing my fears, putting myself into the world, I made some real connections and some unlikely allies.

            How many of you are feeling tempted to put your true self into the world?

To express yourself honestly?

To write?

To publish?

Who will you meet when you decide to face your fears and commit to honesty?

Maybe your best friend, your most trusted allies are waiting out there, hungry for your manuscript!

            Check back on Thursday, May 12^th and I will introduce you to another novelist I met via my UK publishing experience. He’s a good man and he has a fantastic story to share with you.

To be continued, and please keep being you.

Q

Want to read a good book?

To buy Liz Jensen’s THE NINTH LIFE OF LOUIS DRAX hit one of the following links: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Borders / Indiebound / Powell’s

To buy Carsten Jensen’s WE, THE DROWNED: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Borders / Indiebound / Powell’s

The SORTA LIKE A ROCK STAR Paperback Giveaway Is Closed.

Dear Readers,

Your response was overwhelming and inspiring.

I thank you.

Because your e-mails were so poignant, full of goodwill, and sincere, I ended up putting not ten but TWENTY paperback SLARSs in the mail. Books were sent to NJ, MI, WI, PA, NY and MD. I hope your people will enjoy the read and feel the love you put out there. Nice work, readers. You have me feeling hopeful.

Please check back Tuesday May 10^th for the next installment of this blog and then return Thursday May 12^th for a special bonus / guest appearance edition.

To be continued, and please keep being you.

Q

Do You Know What Today Is? (FREE BOOKS!)

Dear Readers,

It’s the official pub date for the SORTA LIKE A ROCK STAR paperback!

I already purchased and read SORTA LIKE A ROCK STAR, you're saying?

If so, do you feel suddenly confined and slightly warm?

That’s because I’m giving you a big ole hug. Thanks so much for reading. Thanks for supporting Q. I take this stuff pretty seriously, my work. You’ve already helped to keep my dream alive.

If you haven't purchased and read SLARS...I’m giving away ten SIGNED paperback copies!

Yes, you heard me right.

TEN!

SIGNED!

Paperback copies of SLARS are up for grabs.

But here's the catch: you can't have one.

What? I hear you saying.

Spread the love, people. Pay it forward. It will come back to you.

I want to give copies to your students, friends, and/or family members.

Here's how it works:

If you know someone who needs to read a book about hope, dealing with depression, being different, overcoming tragedy, and making unlikely friendships...if you know someone who absolutely needs to read SORTA LIKE A ROCK STAR, send that person's name and mailing address (US residents only)--along with a few sentences explaining why you think your person needs a copy--to:

matthewquickwriter [at] gmail.com

You have one week to enter!

(Please make sure the book is appropriate for the reader you select. No book is appropriate for every reader.)

I will pick the ten people who need to read SLARS most (based on your input) and send these readers in need books ASAP.

(If you e-mail me an entry, I will answer your e-mail regardless of whether your person was chosen.)

What's that I hear you saying? I don't need no stinkin' contest! I want to purchase my own copies! 

Awesome! You can now purchase SLARS at a lower price and with a fancy new cover, discussion questions, and the first few chapters of my next book, BOY21. Just hit one of the links above (and on the right) under the new red SLARS cover featuring the head-banging-hair girl.

To those of you who have purchased copies of SLARS and/or taught it in your classrooms, I thank you. Every book sold is a vote for my career.

I'll be looking forward to your e-mails, and then sending out copies to your people. Thanks for the love and support.

To be continued, and please keep being you.

Q

The artistic temperament. Do you have it?

Dear Readers,

I was a peculiar child. Does that surprise you?

What made you peculiar, Q? I hear you asking. (I also hear some of you saying, USED to be peculiar?)

Well, regarding my childhood, I used to snort a lot. Not cocaine or anything like that.

Just angel dust.

KIDDING!

Air.

I used to snort air. I couldn’t get enough of that sweet oxygen, and it often felt like my nasal passages were too small and constantly shrinking. So I would snort in as much air as I could—pig-like.

Mom would tell me to stop snorting, because it drove her nuts and snorting isn’t exactly socially acceptable behavior. She made a chart and gave me gold stars if I could manage to remain snort-free for a length of time. Gold stars could be traded in for prizes like He-Man figures, which—for a spell—were the crack cocaine of my childhood. For Mom (and prizes) I tried to kick the habit. I usually managed to fight off the urge for a few dozen seconds, but then I would snort twice as much to make up for the lost snorts. I was addicted, plain and simple. Powerless. Such was my fate.

The doctors who looked up my nose were stumped. I suggested that maybe the weight of my huge glasses was closing my nasal passages. But they ignored my theory. 'Nothing wrong with the boy,' they said. Of course, they meant nothing ‘physically wrong’ with the boy. What was implied was that the problem was mental.

Looking back now I can see that I was snorting obsessively. I may have had allergies, and the lenses of my glasses were the size and weight of car windows, but it was more than that. I’m certain.

Snorting wasn't exactly pleasurable. There was no real benefit. It was just something I had to do--like breathing.

Apparently, back when I was a wee lad, I also didn’t like wearing more than two colors at a time. (I still don’t wear more than a few.) A two-color max outfit was my rule. So one fine Sunday morning, when Mom forced me into plaid pants, I was on the verge of a spectacular meltdown. Several intersecting colors made so many wild right angles that shot out into veritable rainbows. After a minute or so, it felt like red-hot electrical wires were strangling my thighs and calves. When I protested, when I tried to communicate my anguish, I was told that I had to wear the pants. Period. There would be no changing. We were late for church.

My solution has become family lore. As soon as my parents turned their heads, I ran outside and slid across the grass of our yard, knowing full well that my parents would never allow me to wear grass-stained knees to church. We were dignified Protestants, after all. There was only one pair of plaid pants. Problem solved.

When my father recalls the grass-stained-plaid-pants incident, he still shakes his head at the audacity his first-born son displayed that day. I don’t think he will ever understand why I slid in the grass.  It wasn't that I was trying to be defiant, like he guessed. I just simply could not wear plaid pants--period. Dad didn't get that. Maybe it’s also why he didn’t understand—at first—why I needed to become a writer. He’s just not wired the same way.

What do your childhood quirks have to do with writing, Q? I hear you saying. What the hell kind of blog is this?

About a year ago, Al and I went to hear a veteran writer speak in Philadelphia. She freely offered many wise gems, but one really struck me. This writer said—and I’m paraphrasing—the fiction writers who find a way to keep publishing for decades are usually the people who are terrified of working some type of ‘real job.’

I knew exactly who she was talking about: people who simply cannot exist in the academic or business worlds, people who don’t function well in nine-to-five situations, people who need to do things their own (usually quirky) ways, people who feel like they are being flayed alive when forced to do what others do routinely and mindlessly. People who see the world askew, who experience life in a unique way. People who will do whatever it takes to keep writing full-time, because the alternative is unbearable. People who cannot wear the metaphorical plaid pants.

But don’t you love writing, Q? Isn’t it your passion? I hear you saying, good readers.

Yes, I do love writing. But writing is very very hard, and making a living as a fiction writer is even more challenging. I've come to believe writing's not something I choose to do because I love it, but rather something I have to do, just because.

It's the new snorting.

When I quit a tenured position at a prestigious high school and started writing full-time, without even a sniff (pun?) of a contract or paycheck, it was the metaphorical equivalent of sliding through the grass in my Sunday best, which pissed off my dad once more. Several years later, friends and family members have come to accept (or maybe overlook) my need to sit in a room all day and make up stories, but I'm not sure most people understand. I've met other writers who do, and that has been a great comfort. Some I will introduce you to on this blog.

The artistic temperament.

If you don’t understand what I’m writing about here, you definitely don’t have it.

But I’m sure some of you are nodding.

Either way, you are welcome to read on. *

So what are you saying, Q? I hear you asking. What’s this all about?

I believe there are others out there. I'm hoping this blog will be a flag...and all-y-all-y-in-come-free freak flag for those who need it.

If you are looking for insight into the publishing world, I'm happy to share my experiences. If you want to talk about fiction writing, we can do that. If you want the real deal on what it's like to be a full-time fiction writer, you shall have it. And if you are just looking to feel less alone in the world, I hope you'll get that here too. There are others out there who understand. I'm hoping to make connections.

I won’t be here every second of the day, but I promise to share my thoughts on a regular basis, so follow my feed (or whatever it's called) and please visit this blog often. You will get the full, unadulterated, non-pasteurized Q here.

I look forward to interacting with you, readers, no matter who you are. If you’re one of my teen readers, I’d especially love to hear from you. Adults are okay too! Feel free to get involved. Follow along! Leave comments! Ask questions! Who knows what will happen!

To be continued, and please keep being you.

Q

PS - Check back on May 3rd. That's a big day.

* DISCLAIMER: I fully realize that there are novelists who work other ‘real’ jobs successfully—even simultaneously! (For the record, this is entirely unfair! Proof that God has a cruel streak, or that nature is a sadist. These job-working novelists shame me!) Not all writers fit the description above. But if you can't relate to any of this, you probably aren’t reading my work anyway, and—I’m willing to bet you haven’t made it this far in this here inaugural Q blog post either. This blog will probably not be for everyone, and that's okay.