According to Sam and Jim Commenting on things that irk us off, make us laugh out loud or just seem too weird too believe According to Sam and Jim: It's Hard Work But I like Writing

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

It's Hard Work But I like Writing

Boy writing can be hard work. Not that Sam would know. He’s either chewing on a jerky treat or lollygagging on the couch when I write. But bless the little guy for letting me do my work.

This blog usually isn’t that difficult to write. Once in a while I get stumped for a subject to pontificate about, but not often. No, I’m talking about books being hard to write. I’m working on number three right now and I’m about half way through. My goal is to finish it by early fall and have it ready for publication by the end of the year - maybe in time for Christmas (hint, hint).

The thing is, I’m not one of those writers who can crank out 10 or more pages per day. I’m lucky if I crank out 10 paragraphs. I’m becoming more disciplined about my writing though, usually sitting down in front of my computer even when I’m not really in the mood. But it isn’t always easy. Too many times a little voice inside me will say, “You should mow the lawn, you should vacuum before Kathleen comes home” or something like that. Fortunately, I have a goal to write at least six books before I die, which leaves me four to go, so I have incentive. And since I’m now retired I can no longer use the excuse of being too pooped from work to write. I like to tell people I’m a writer, but to lay claim to that bit of fame I have to actually write.

The hard part of writing a book is not necessarily putting words on paper. The hard part is dredging up memories of events and times gone by, that I use to give depth to events in my book s or to help flesh out my characters. It’s difficult sometimes to recall the past because it makes me wax so nostalgic that I get all dreamy and smarmy and have trouble putting my feelings on my computer screen.

I was playing some music from my past the other day to help one of my characters know what it felt like to be young and in love, dancing with a special girl, holding her in my arms, smelling her perfume - yada, yada. First, I played Paul Anka’s song, Put Your Head On My Shoulder: (see it on You Tube)

Put your lips next to mine, dear 

Won’t you kiss me once, baby 

Just a kiss goodnight, may be 

You and I will fall in love 

Then I played Roy Orbison’s song, Cryin’: (see it on You Tube)

I was all right for a while, I could smile for a while
But I saw you last night, you held my hand so tight 

As you stopped to say "Hello"
Aww you wished me well, you couldn't tell 

That I'd been cry-i-i-i-ng over you, cry-i-i-i-ng over you 

Then, aw crap, I turned into a big ol’ weepy-nosed mushmallow. Sheesh! Writing the right words to help a reader understand what my character is feeling is especially hard.

On the other hand, the challenge of writing is addicting. And it is so rewarding to look at something I’ve written a couple of days or couple of weeks later, and be able to say to myself, “Dang! That’s not half bad.”  I don’t think I’ll commit suicide like Hemingway or drink myself into a continual stupor like F. Scott Fitzgerald over my writing. Two bags of Sam’s poop on that. If I don’t get rich and famous for writing well, well, at least I wrote.

Information about my books can be found at

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