Where the Hell Have You Been?

Yeah, I know. It's the pattern of a blogger sometimes. Try to stay on top of posts, and you really do try and really are committed, but - -

Anyway, I'm back. Trying to get into the pattern of writing these blogs again.

Just some updates might be the best way to start...

1. I'm getting ready now - at a coffee shop in the Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago - for a performance, a reading at Stage 773 for the storytelling series "Here's the Story."

2. Been involved with a number of the reading/storytelling events - Story Club, This Much is True, Essay Fiesta. Wonderful stuff!

3. New short-short story collection is out - AFTER OPIUM. Kindle version now; paperback soon to come. Please check it out...

4. I'm involved in a great new storytelling venture called "Cowbird." The website - www.cowbird.com - is a small group - although international - of storytellers. Check it out. It's a beautiful site.

5. I have to run - to get to Stage 773. I'm going to try super hard to stay on top of his blog. :)

David

An Experiment?

It's been a good autumn.

I'm in the process of wrapping up another semester of teaching at Columbia College Chicago, finishing up some freelance writing assignments, and working on some new material for a considered Kindle publication, a possible ebook adventure, if you will. The stories will be a mixture of fiction and creative nonfiction. An editor is working through the stories and I'm cleaning up some of the material, some of it needs more cleaning than others.

The working title is After Opium, the title of one of the pieces. The theme is about all those many things that we feel we need, are addicted to, and believe we can't live without - when in reality, we can live without most of it. It's just a matter of deciding to carry on, move on, change, accept heartache, loss or a new beginning.

This venture into e-publishing is really an academic experiment. I want to see what self-publishing through the ebook experience is really like. I hope to have something available sometime in the early part of 2012. Good way to start the New Year, huh? We'll see.

Here are a few of the pieces - at least early versions of them - that will likely be included in the e-collection. Each has been published, but reworked, newer versions - some only slightly changed - will likely make it into After Opium (the collection).

Hope you enjoy.

Epiphany Magazine - "Over the Edge and Into the Wind"

Epiphany Magazine - "The Smell of Dead Soldiers"

Character-i - "After Opium"

This Much is True

After being immersed in writing while at the Jack Kerouac House in Orlando this summer, it's been tough getting back into the swing of things - the writing swing - here in the Chicago area. Not that I don't want to write - I certainly do and have, to some extent - but the routine is off. And that makes be wonder about how writers - of all kinds - get themselves back in the groove after a change in their usual or planned writing routine?

It's not that easy, is it?

Writing is work, and it takes time and thought, introspection and consideration, and many times what is needed it a difficult commodity to cultivate - quiet. Those who don't write sometimes don't get this. Even our loved ones don't always understand the process. How could they if they don't also write?

So, I'm wondering today - what do you do? What do you do to get your writing swagger back after a break, a respite? How do you jump start the process? Or do you? Maybe you slog back into it like I'm currently doing. Or maybe you are atypical and simply never fall off the writing track? You lucky devil, you.

I have one thing that may help. This coming Tuesday night in Chicago I'll be reading at the This Much is True event at the Hopleaf Bar, 5148 North Clark. TMIT is a marvelous addition to the storytelling circuit in Chicago and really is a kick to experience. Come on out and help me get my writing juices flowing again! It might also electrify your writing, too.

Best,

David

Scribbler's Retreat - A Great Experience

Thanks to all who turned out for the Scribbler's Retreat and Conference at the Sea Island Lodge on St. Simons, Georgia. What a great group and a well-run writing conference!

I was fortunate enough to be asked to give the keynote address Saturday evening, and was thrilled by the response and enthusiasm of this group of writers. A speaker certainly can thrive off of that! And great questions, by the way.

Scribbler's does a number of conference at year, and it is truly a good experience for all levels of writers. And these people are FUN! I know this sounds a bit like a commercial - but honestly - it is one of the better writing conference experiences.

Back from JK House and trying to find a new pattern for writing here in the Chicago area again. A road trip of 1285 miles from Orlando through Georgia and South Carolina and Asheville, North Carolina (stunning beauty) and the Smokey Mountains and Tennessee and Ohio and Indiana and Illinois. It is a little tricky getting the groove going again, but I've got some ideas and some energy...so...off I go...

Best,

David

-30-

I sat in Jack's room this morning, my last minutes in the Kerouac House.

There on the bed, and then at the desk, I thought about my 2-and-a-half months here. Not about every minute, every breakthrough in writing, or friend made, or visits to the Essay Club, or my readings at Infusion or inside this house, or the workshop with MadAboutWords, or my final weeks of writing inspired by the Downtown Credo coffee shop, or my book manuscript. Instead, I thought about the energy in that room, how I wanted to bottle it, to wrap it up in a sealed plastic bag and put it on ice to thaw whenever I need it.

I left behind my Zen bracelet I once wore, wrapping it around the small Buddha shrine in Jack's room. I wanted to leave something behind, more than just the memory of a writer who once worked here.

My last week was a good one despite the AC dying at the house on the next to last day. But somehow it was fitting. When Jack lived here, there was no air conditioning, so he wrote at night when it was cool, his keys echoing out the open window and bouncing off the trees and homes on this usually quiet street. Neighbors said they could hear the furious typing until dawn.

To all those who supported me - thank you. To all the writers before me - thank you. To the writer's to come - savor the work, and breath every bit of the omnipresent energy. I promise I left a little behind.

Best,

David

Now That Was Cool

Sometimes nights are pleasant; sometimes nights are memorable. Sometimes - they are undeniably seared into the landscape of your future.

That's what the night was at the Jack Kerouac House - a searing, unforgettable launching.

It was my goodbye reading at the JK House Saturday night. About twenty-five people on hand. Wine, cheese, cut apples, green grapes, sweets made of caramel. And a supportive, encouraging, responsive crowd.

I read a few short pieces I had written here, or edited here, and then a chapter from my new book-length manuscript. I tried to hit a lot of notes, strike some relevance. I pray I accomplished that. Think I did.

But, about this "landscape of the your future" of which I speak.

Performing at readings is not writing. It is just that, performing. There's a rhythm you have to recognize, a pulse you have to take, so that you offer what you think you must and allow it to be received through the windows of what your audience wants. It's tough work. I don't always get it right. Even when I do, I'm doubtful that it is as good as it can be. But what I am sure of from the reading the JK House Saturday, is that the stories told and the questions asked and the hearts and souls touched (including mine) were all very real. And with that, I go forward. I move ahead, take what the night gave me, and write more, create more, find new themes, discover more inquiries, and deliver more stories. Writers always need places, good places from which to jump. Saturday night I leapt from the steps of the Jack Kerouac House with wings.

Thanks to all.

I will soon relinquish the chair that sits at the desk in the small room where Jack wrote The Dharma Bums to the next writer, the next lucky soul who will also find a nuturting venue, a supportive cast, and a place from which to jump.

Best,

David

One More Week

The countdown has begun.

I have one more week left - to the day - here at the JK House. And as all goodbyes go, there's a some sadness. Made new friends here, and I've come to really love this area. (Yeah, it's been hot, but you somehow get used to it.)

Of course, I've completed a good deal of work here, or at least as completed as writing can be. I forget who it was, but an author once said something like this: a writer is never done with a story, he only abandons it. I know exactly what he meant.

Saturday night is my final reading at the Kerouac House, and I'm looking forward to the chance to share pieces of the book manuscript and some short fiction I written here, all inspired - to some extent - by the area, the house, the local people, the shops.

Next weekend, I head for Sea Island, Georgia for a conference - The Scribbler's Retreat. I've been honored to talk about radio narrative, creative nonfiction, and interviewing as the conference's keynote speaker. Never been to Sea Island, and friends tell me it is storybook beautiful.

I can't say I'm looking forward to the 1200 mile drive back to Chicago, but how fitting, right? It prolongs the Kerouac connection when one has to get behind the wheel and drive and drive.

David