WAIT!
Don't leave until I've had the opportunity to welcome you and invite you to look around. My first entry here "Return to Innocence," may surprise you.
(Right now I picture the abovementioned crowd moving on elsewhere with said Internet search).
Hey, I've never been a salesman, but I may have some of those traits housed within. Using deceptive tag words to lure in unsuspecting others is not a bad idea. "Discipline" goes without saying. "Return to Innocence," while seemingly innocent at first glance may mean something completely different. For instance, what is he returning from? A-a-a-h-h-h, you're thinking about that now, aren't you? Go ahead and look. I'll still be here when you get back.
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"Echo."
"Echo."
I guess you're not coming back.
Yes, once again it's been a while since I've stepped foot inside these hallowed halls. The alternate title I had considered for this space; "There Nobody's Here," which was one of the first truly cognizant sentences uttered by my (then) two year old son has yet to disappoint. Don't pull out the hankies, start playing the world's smallest violins or any other cliché oriented things that come to mind yet. Although I am a bit disappointed at the lack of traffic through here, I can't blame folks for not stopping by. My last entry was back in November of '07. I can easily make a number of weak excuses as to why, but for now let's chalk it up to plain and simple laziness with a lack of motivation on the side. Writing has long been a dream of mine
and now that it's finally being realized, I find it can be cumbersome at times. Yes, I still submit a bi-monthly column to a local magazine. No, there's still no paycheck in sight, but that's alright. The charge I get out of seeing myself in print is still second to none, and while I'm not being stopped on the street for autographs, hello's or simple nods of recognition, I know people are reading me. How, you may ask? On the days immediately following the magazine's release, one can often find me suspiciously skulking around the distribution sites, mentally calculating the rate at which the magazine is being consumed by its devoted readers. The fact that many of these sites are banks should raise a few eyebrows, especially from local law enforcement, who upon realizing it's me should offer high-fives and pose for pictures.Guess what? There Nobody's There either!
I need to set aside time to write. I tell myself that daily, but find it nearly impossible just trying to balance work and family. Once the weather turns warm, I selfishly enjoy retreating to the peace and quiet of our front steps to lose myself in the pages of a good book for an hour.
(These days enjoying a bad book wouldn't be so bad either).
Naturally that time could be better spent putting some of the jumbled thoughts that race in and out of my brain down on paper, but it wouldn't matter. My son, whom I am convinced is nocturnal also happens to be an early riser. Shortly following what I thought was a successful solo trip to the great outdoors, I hear someone trying to sneak up behind me.
"What are you doing, Buddy" I ask, trying to mask my momentary disappointment?
"I just want to watch you read, Daddy."
"OK, but keep it quiet," I say, knowing I won't get a sentence further.
My eyes return to the page for barely a second when:
"Daddy," he begins.
We return inside to get breakfast started.
He's like my shadow and I wouldn't have it any other way. In his younger days when I would bring work home, my wife would find the two of us on the couch furiously scribbling notes in our respective composition books, me trying to log some DVD footage for editing the next day, him trying to emulate his dad.
It's hard to write with a five year old always looking over your shoulder. His antics and simple observations alone as he continually discovers the world around him give me a wealth of material to work with. The hard part is finding a wealth of material to interest readers in a public forum. With the magazine, I've spent a good deal of time revealing some of the odder moments
in my life (all of which are unarguably true and without exaggeration.) They call the column a Literary Showcase, but to me it's really anything but. Literary brings to mind accomplished authors and dusty tomes on library shelves. I've never considered myself an author. I'm just a guy who enjoys to write when the mood strikes. Recently the mood seems to strike when I am jarringly reminded via e-mail that anther editorial deadline is on the horizon. Somehow, in under 48 hours I manage to pull off another submission. I call it winging it. Even in my professional life when I'm facing a tedious video project that I have managed to lazily put off a day or two, I find myself winging it on the day before it is due. Maybe it's the whole working under pressure thing that seems to click with me. In fact as I write this, I'm considering a hastily written e-mail to the publisher of Forest Hills Celebrity and Entertainment who has unselfishly given me a very long rope with which to hang myself, and see if he'll consider changing the name of my small page of literary real estate to "Winging It." Maybe that will draw some inspiration. In the meantime, consider this a call for help. Feel free to throw some ideas my way or some tips on writer's discipline. Otherwise, maybe I will resort to a dominatrix to help whip me into shape.
No comments:
Post a Comment