This is not the first Christmas I kept in my secret heart and all by myself.
It probably won’t be the last.
But it is the only one like this due to Covid 19 and the fear that I may die before the month is over.
I must accept whatever comes. And I have no regrets about how I’ve lived my life. Even the bad parts, the sad parts, the pain… are all a part of the song as a whole, and no one ever was able to take back a single note once it has been sung.
Filed under Uncategorized
I continue to get fallout from that one blistering review. Amazon reduced that particular review from two stars to one. They also reduced the stars on a review for Magical Miss Morgan because the reader, although she says she really likes the book , found some things questionable. It went from four stars to three because of that one word, which, from reading the whole review, was more about Miss Morgan’s teaching practices which included having students go barefoot in class while reading The Hobbit. So, I’m feeling persecuted.
I will survive. But in a pandemic Christmas where I am confined to my house, unable to visit family in Iowa, and still trying to recover from my father’s death a thousand miles away from here, I am a bit depressed and in need of something happening that is good for a change. I know this current problem is the fault of a bad editing decision, which made me contemplate changing the critical detail before publishing, but then deciding the tale was more intimate and subtly beautiful if it was not changed. I forget that one man’s beauty is often another man’s thought crimes.
No more dwelling on this. I have fixed the novel already. My next novel probably needs to be the one about overcoming chronic depression. The title has changed from Valerie in Darkness to The Boy Who Rose on a Golden Wing. Somebody will probably evaluate it as totally inappropriate too.
Filed under Uncategorized
This blog post still carries a lot of truth in its weaselly wordings.
When you make the mistake of admitting to others that you are a writer, they immediately assume you know things that are kept secret from “normal” people. For instance, they will simply assume that you can tell them where you get your ideas for writing. Well, I am fairly sure that I got the idea for this post from watching a YouTube video in which the Master, Neil Gaiman, says that every author has a joke answer for that one with enough sarcastic wit in it to punish the asker with public humiliation.
I asked the dog if she knew any jokes like that which I could use to prepare for someone asking me that question in public. She said, “You could tell them that your family dog tells you what to write every day.”
“No,” I said, “people would never believe it.”
“Well, it is supposed to be a…
View original post 455 more words
Filed under Uncategorized
I am a liar. I can’t be any more honest than that. Of course, you probably already know that I tell my truths in stories that are fiction, but always reveal the deeper things that I am really talking about.
This last weekend I was bitterly disappointed by a Pubby review. It was disappointing because, although the reader read the whole book, he or she obviously didn’t understand the themes of it. The reader recognized that the story was well written, but instead of judging the overall message of the book, the reader seized on a detail of the plot and accused me of writing a book that depicted twelve-year-olds having sex.
The book, Sing Sad Songs, is not about that at all. In the story the girl and boy are talking about a dream they shared. They are talking about it in private. But it is not a sex dream. At that point there is no mention of sex at all. But during the discussion, they share their first kiss. The boy kisses the girl first. She then kisses him back, even more passionately, and he puts his tongue in her mouth. Shocked, she pulls away. She asks what they are doing.
He tells her they are probably making love. Then he says he knows a way to do it that can’t make you pregnant. Using their mouths. They discuss whether they want to go further. They are about to choose not to when the girl closes and locks the door. There the scene ends. There the Reader stopped enjoying the book and instead started planning a review that listed all of my crimes in the novel.
The Reader decided to be offended again when the act is discussed again between characters. There is a scene when the three narrators of the book decide whether or not they should include such personal and private stuff in the story. And the girl later turns to her older female friend, a high-school girl who already has a boyfriend she is intending to marry. They talk about sex one more time, and the older girl tells her the important thing is to be honest with the boy in question and especially with herself. This last discussion is, I think, the most important part of the whole theme. It is a theme about being honest about how you feel. The girl is getting advice from someone who is older and wiser, telling her to be more careful and to be honest with the boy about it.
The Reader feels that my truth in this book is a crime and somehow unacceptable. The Reader wrote a toxic review that not only shames my book, but questions the reading ability of a former teacher who left the previous review and dared to suggest that my book was good enough for school libraries.
I love this book. It is one of the best things I have ever written. I wrote it very carefully. I knew when I left this plot detail in the book that I was taking a risk from blue-nosed old ladies. (I don’t actually know the gender of the Reader, who reviews everything under the name Reader.) Now the risk has snapped on me. I already went back and updated the novel. All I had to do was take out the oral sex suggestion and make the particular conflict in those three chapters be about the “French Kiss” using his tongue. A few sentences rewritten and a handful of different words chosen make a big difference. But even at its worst, the book was not explicitly describing underaged sex. It was not without a moral lesson attached, and it was really not intentional pornography. I got unlucky and triggered the censorship instincts of this Reader. And Amazon did not allow me to comment on this review, not even to say I had changed the part that offended the Reader.
And what’s worse, the toxic review will not only turn away potential readers, it will affect further Pubby reviews. Pubby expects the reader to buy the book (for a verified review) and then turn it into a book review in only four days. Not all readers on Pubby are as determined to read the whole book carefully as I am… and the Reader who zapped me is. They will, for the most part, look at the existing reviews and skim through the book or not even read it. I got one review on Recipes for Gingerbread Children for an excellent cook book, even though it is listed as a YA fiction novel. (Amazon already removed that review, as apparently the reviewer didn’t actually buy the book either. I didn’t get value for value on that one.) My only hope is that actual readers will take care of business through Pubby, reading this now-sanitized book before the average of reviews totally bottom out.
Looking on the bright side, Pubby has gotten me a good rating on Amazon as a book reviewer. I have 43 citations for helpful reviews. I always include information from the book to prove I read it, specifically talk about the things I liked or didn’t like about the book without spoiling anything for future readers, and clearly either recommend or not recommend the book. I have reviewed some terrible books. But not once did I ever leave a book-killing review like this one that now makes me sad. And I can’t argue that the reviewer did not do his or her job. Just that he or she was rather unkind.
Filed under Uncategorized
I have been very prolific as a writer in the last couple of years. 2020, though a really dark and bitter year, saw me complete a bunch of writing projects.
Starting with the most recent finished writing project, Mickey’s Rememberries is a compilation of Catch a Falling Star blog-post essays chosen to represent all my teacher/school stories, my numerous conspiracy theory opinions, my personal history, the death of my father from Parkinson’s Disease, and pithy observations connecting the past world to the present world. I published it on Amazon as a self-published work of autobiographical non-fiction essays, with some original cartoons thrown in for good measure.
Before that, this summer, I finished and published The Wizard in his Keep. This novel is the endpoint of character arcs that began in the novel Superchicken, set in 1974. Two of the original kids’ liars’ club known as the Norwall Pirates, one who has become an FBI agent trying to find his sister’s kids who have been missing since their parents’ fatal car crash, the other a video-game designer who has those kids hidden away in a virtual-reality game-world that has all gone wrong with government interference. It is a rollicking science-fiction adventure that reunites two boys who were once best friends and possibly turns them into enemies as their objectives begin to clash.
Before that came Laughing Blue, the first book of essays inspired by Robert Fulgham’s Everything I Needed to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten.
Like the Rememberries book, it is made up of essays that appeared first here on my blog, Catch a Falling Star.
It is about becoming a teacher, becoming a Christian Existentialist, becoming a nudist, and being able to make the best out of everything, including the time I was sexually assaulted as a ten-year-old child. And all of it is basically done with humor rather than anger… even for those people on my list of who I am going to seriously haunt when I die and become a ghost writer. Oh, and cartoons for good measure here as well.
In June, before the essay book, I published the third in my AeroQuest series of humorous science fiction, AeroQuest 3 : Juggling Planets. This is a product of my Tuesday novel-writing posts that shares with you how the novel is progressing Canto by Canto, whether it is rewriting, or possibly entirely new writing. It is a story with lots of characters, lots of planets, lots of alien beings, lots of space ninjas, space cowboys, space pirates, Space Smurfs, space samurai, space nudists, and a White Spider of Prophecy who will weave together a web of interstellar civilization.
A Field Guide to Fauns was finished and then published in April. It is a story about a boy coming to live in the San Antonio area with his father, his step-mother, and twin step-sisters after the death of his mother.
The problem for Devon is, his new family lives in a residential nudist park, and they expect him to be a nudist too.
This book is beginning to become popular among the nudists I know from Twitter. It is probably not a book for everyone, but you never know. If you read it, it may surprise you too.
The first book I published in 2020 was…
actually the re-publishing of my book Magical Miss Morgan. It had been previously published by Page Publishing Company. But, since they don’t actually do anything for an author but print the book and think of new things to charge the author for, I reclaimed my manuscript and the rights to it, giving myself more control and less expense over everything.
You can see that I am not really bragging about six books written in 2020. I came into the year with the first half of A Field Guide to Fauns already written. AeroQuest 3 was two thirds done while I plodded along at a chapter every Tuesday. The Wizard in His Keep was the only book written entirely in 2020. But six books in one year all published is a special case. I still have more stories stored away in my writer’s closet that only need to be rewritten or revised, and a ton more in the mental closet in the mandatory mental-scape in my stupid old head. But I doubt I will ever publish six in one year again.
Filed under Uncategorized
Here’s an old Christmas post worth revisiting.
Nerrak, the Christmas Viking,,, He is blue in color because he lives in upper Norway and it gets very, very cold.
I guess I need to explain the festive Christmas Viking that I included as the initial Paffooney of this post. You see, during the Princess’ Christmas concert where she played the tooty leather pole, one of the pieces was called Sleigh Ride. But as we talked about it at the dinner table, Henry, the Princess, and I, it was quite naturally understood to be Slay Ride. It probably stems from too much Dungeons and Dragons adventuring. You tend to get into an entirely too slaying-sort-of mind set. And, naturally enough, we figured a “Slaying Song” had to be the kind of Christmas music that would appeal to Vikings and barbarians everywhere.
Groo the Wanderer, created by Sergio Aragones
Yes, my kids and I often err to seriously…
View original post 260 more words
Filed under Uncategorized
I have not and will not stop writing, but…
Finishing the second book of essays at the same time my father finally passed away from his long battle with Parkinson’s Disease has felt like crossing a finish line. Not winning anything, mind you, but definitely the end of something that was a big part of my life. I am exhausted. I feel a bit ill. I have several Parkinson’s symptoms myself. I definitely need to slow down a little.
Of everything I have written up until now…
…these two books are the most important part of the puzzle that is me.
These two books of essays represent everything in the clearest, most truthful way what my writing, and my life is really all about. The themes, the personal truths and tragedies, and the created reality I have generated in my fiction books is deeply rooted and mostly explained in these essays.
That is difficult work that basically saps the marrow from my bones. It is no wonder I need a bit of a breather.
But a big part of the break I have been on was not voluntary. I went for a week and a half with no cell phone.
The charging port on my cell phone, a Samsung Galaxy, broke. And that is easily fixed… when not in a pandemic. And my phone is an old, beat-up S-5. In a world of S-10s and maybe S-11s, those are not easy to find a working repairman for. The last repairman I had repair it moved all the way to Mesquite, Texas. But he was kind enough to put me in touch with a new guy from India in our area. I can at least call people again. But, of course, the internet still can’t be connected to.
So, now that I have struggled to write this essay, explaining how writing has made me naked and poor with no creative energy left, I should stop writing for today. Except that I can’t. More AeroQuest 4 to finish.
Filed under Uncategorized
Canto 118 – The Mission Aboard the Super Rooster
“What do we know about the unknown ship?” Ged asked Naylund.
“Very little. Scanners don’t get normal life-form readings. We can’t identify the craft by its design or visible features. It is a mystery apparently come from deep space in the unknown.”
“Monsters from outer space?” asked Sara with an ironic smile.
“Possibly. You and Junior should go with Naylund and I to look it over out there.” Ged put a hand on her shoulder. “Who else among the students would prove useful?”
“Billy Iowa’s clairvoyance can help us anticipate dangers and see beyond walls. And he probably won’t go without Gyro. But Gyro’s molecular transmutations could come in handy too maybe.”
“You have become quite an insightful leader,” said Naylund. “You make me proud.”
“Thank you, Daddy. But part of what we have been learning is how to rely on multiple leaders who can shift responsibilities as needed on the spur of the moment.”
“Go find Junior, Billy, and Gyro and give them the orders,” Ged commanded Sara.
“Yes, Sensei. By your command.” She scampered off towards the Akito House.
“Do you know where we can get workable vacuum suits?” Ged asked Naylund.
“Yes. There a little bit steam punk and a little bit old-fashioned, but they are serviceable Tech Level Nine. They are actually from my old starship that brought me here over a century ago.”
“Okay… Then I imagined they are thoroughly broken in.”
“Yes, but hopefully not too broken. Space travel has not been a common thing on this planet for over a thousand years.”
“Something we probably should’ve thought of when we borrowed the Ancient Hammer to build our space port.”
“You are probably right.”
The walking and talking ended in front of the Super Rooster on the old-fashioned launch gantry that Junior, Gyro, and Taffy King had created for it. It was a strange-looking craft that made Ged long for even the Megadeath to look at it. It had none of the elegance of the Leaping Shadowcat.
Gyro met them in front of the launch gantry. He was also all smiles, but with none of the irony Ged had detected in Sara’s grin.
“I built this thing, Sensei,” Gyro said proudly.
“I know you did. But you built it for Shen-Ming-sama, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps I better ask him to borrow it.”
“You know it is the only other spaceship besides the Red Dragon that we have available, and that Ancient thing could be way too dangerous to use for this mission,” reminded Naylund.
“You go on ahead. I need to ask…”
Ged turned back towards the Palace of a Thousand Years and focused his signal on Shen’s Tower to avoid the message being intercepted.
“What is it, my son?” Shen Ming asked when Ged keyed the commo-dot on his. neck.
“I need to borrow the car keys, Dad.”
“The keys to the Rooster, you mean. By all means. But drink no gargleblasters and wreck it not. Until the new ones are designed and built, it is the only car we really have.”
“I promise. Not a scratch or a dent.”
“Go with my blessing, then.”
Ged turned back to where Gyro was watching for his return.
Filed under aliens, humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney, satire, science fiction, Uncategorized
This year…
has not really inspired deep abiding thankfulness in most of us. But it benefits us in no way to forget gratitude is a real and important part of every person’s heart.
2020 is the year I lost my father. I am his firstborn son. I believe it is safe to say he was grateful for my arrival in this world. I was born in the 1950s in November. This year, my father passed away from this world on my birthday. I know you may be wondering how I can be grateful for this thing that happened to us. But I am. He passed away to bring an end to five months of suffering at the figurative hands of Parkinson’s Disease. It caused his multiple strokes over the duration of his final hospitalization, and it took away his ability to remember my name, or anything about me, or even the fact of my existence. But I suspect that the day I was born was probably one of the most life-changing and important moments in his life, just as the birth of my firstborn in the middle 1990s was for me. It began a connection that defines our whole extended family and lasted for over sixty years. I am grateful that he is now at peace. And I am grateful for every part of the connection between his life and mine.
So, I find myself alone on this Thanksgiving day.
My wife and daughter went to Florida with my sisters-in-law and their daughters while my son is working the night shift for the Sheriff’s Department of Dallas County, and so is sound asleep at this moment. I am by myself and left to my own devices, having been too ill to travel and not being willing to risk death by Covid anyway. I did not really like the idea of the mid-pandemic welcome-to-America trip to Disney World, but I certainly understand that my wife’s younger sister was able to immigrate to this country right before the pandemic hit, and I know only too well you can’t argue with a stubborn little Filipino woman who daily teaches middle-school children who are taller than she is. And besides, she knows how to breathe fire like a dragon when necessary. She’s too sterilizingly hot-tempered to ever get the virus. I am grateful that she has found happiness in one small part of this pandemic. It has been far more wearing on her than it has on me. She has diabetes, but already took care of one son sick with the virus without ever testing positive herself.
And we had a dog adventure this week.
On Monday, the day the Filipino sisters in Texas all went to the airport, tragedy struck one little dog left behind. My sister-in-law who also lives in Dallas, not one of the three who now live in San Antonio, left their little fuzzy lover-puppy in my care because I had successfully taken care of the San Antonio dog, Marley, when last a trip like this one was made before the pandemic. Monte is a much tinier dog than either my dog Jade or Marley. He is a miniature poodle-mix of some kind, covered in downy-gray curls and shaky-nervous like a Chihuahua. And I tried hard to get to know him and get him to trust me, but it came time for going for a walk, and he was still super wary of me.
My dog, Jade, was no help in the matter. Any time I petted Monte, I had to scratch her ears or rub her tummy too. She was quite jealous of the little guy. So, I walked them separately. I walked Jade first. She happily toured the green-belt park and sniffed bird poo and pooped twice herself for me to bag and dispose of . Then, when it was Monte’s turn, I was bending over him and trying to get the leash attached to his collar. But Jade kept sticking her selfish head in the way. So, I swatted at her. And Monte took that opportunity to zip out the door without either the leash or me.
We had a face-down in the yard.
“Now, Monte, I need to put the leash on. Will you come here?” I said as non-threateningly as I could.
His little black, button eyes looked at the leash, and he looked at me. He was having none of it.
I took a step towards him. He took three small steps away.
“Please, boy. You don’t want to run away, do you?”
But, he did want to. In fact, he turned around at that very moment, leaped down from the retaining wall, scooted over the sidewalk and out into the road in front of the oncoming car.
I know what you’re probably thinking. But it wasn’t what happened. I shouted loudly enough that the guy in the car slowed down and looked at me. The dog saw the car and changed direction, running East down the sidewalk. I ran after him, but the last I saw of him was his fuzzy little butt working like a trap-spring to turn him down an alley thirty yards ahead of me.
He didn’t have any idea where he was headed. But he knew he didn’t want to be with me. I searched in vain for another glimpse of him. Then I went home to get help and woke up number two son. We scoured the neighborhood. We asked everyone we met if they had seen him.
One lady in the alley where I last saw him promised to keep an eye out for him, and I gave her our address in case she did see him or heard anything from the neighbors.
Eventually we went home after a couple of fruitless hours in the cold drizzle. I kept remembering the hungry coyote that came up and eyed Jade while I was walking her in the early morning. That’s what I envisioned as Monte’s fate. I went to bed Monday night heartsick, thinking we would never see that little dog again, and how it was all my fault.
I searched again the next morning. But, of course, I found nothing. The only positive thing was… I didn’t find his carcass in the street,’
Later that Tuesday I got a call from my wife in Florida.
“Somebody found Monte.”
She texted me the address. And, sure enough, when we went there, the girl was happy to see us. She put Monte back in my hands. She told us he was a sweet and quiet little dog that her aunt found hiding in her garage.
I thanked the girl profusely. Later her aunt called. It was the same lady I had given the address to in the alleyway. She had used the address to look up my wife’s telephone number. I thanked her profusely too. I’d have given them a huge cash reward, if I wasn’t broke and bankrupt since 2017.
So, in 2020, I am thankful.
I am thankful for good neighbors. I am thankful for the gift of good dogs who love you even when you don’t deserve it. I am thankful for Joe Biden… God, am I ever thankful for Joe Biden.
And I am thankful that the end of my father’s story has given him peace.
Filed under Uncategorized
Today was the funeral. We attended by Facebook Live. You couldn’t understand what the minister was saying over static and feedback. And you couldn’t see or talk to anybody who was there. My two sisters were there. My sister Mary’s husband and two kids were there. My mother was there. And twenty people attended by Facebook. My father deserved more. But Covid 19 doesn’t make bargains… or play fair. So, we make compromises with time and circumstance. We are patient and we endure. That is what my father taught us to do. And so, we honor him in the only way we can.
Filed under Uncategorized
Catch a Falling Star 