Surgite

Congrats to Adam Slade

2011-04-05T18:27:00.000-07:00

For his newly published work, The Strand!

Look Me In The Eye

2010-03-24T17:53:00.000-07:00

Left to right: John Elder Robison, Me, Prof. James Hala.

It was a highly invigorating lecture at Drew University. John Robison gave a talk about his book, as well as information about Aspergers and TMS treatment.

It was very nice to meet a writer friend in person, by the way, and see my former Chaucer professor as well.

I have to say that if anyone has a chance to hear John speak about his book, life and current medical trials, it is well worth it. He is an engaging speaker who leaves all of the audience buzzing with new knowledge and further questions.

For my part, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening! Kudos John!

I Have No Clue

2009-11-09T18:45:00.000-08:00

This rips me apart.
I'll miss you and miss hearing you read with your special panache:
http://www.tributes.com/show/Jack-Wiler-87003288

I was looking forward to hearing you read in Madison on Nov. 17th. I hope all of the bugs are dead where you are, and you are having a beer with Bukowski.

THE INTERROGATOR

2009-10-01T11:27:00.000-07:00

How could I have forgotten to post this one?

Take a look at J.J. Cooper's new thriller, THE INTERROGATOR at http://www.jjcooperbooks.com/

Here's a bit from a review by Authorscoop.com,

"Does ‘fast-paced’ charge as one word or two? Not that it matters, anyway. Who’s counting? Fast-paced is the word(s) of the day for JJ Cooper’s debut thriller, THE INTERROGATOR. You may remember that JJ spoke with AuthorScoop back in May and I got my hands on an advance copy well before its August release date and am back to offer up a sneak peek.

JJ Cooper’s background in the Australian Army Intelligence Corps sets well-placed strings on the protagonist, interrogator Jay Ryan, and then JJ goes and puts him in a bind (sometimes literally) of epic proportion. What Ryan knows about Iraq’s WMDs, along with his long-standing record of achievement, has placed him in the crosshairs of a conspiracy that looks to rattle the entire world. The story stacks twists like a game of Jenga, and as the pieces move with the machinations of villain and hero alike, the tower of intrigue topples to a shattering conclusion."

Listening to the Oldies

2009-08-25T20:46:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMyzDekZAN0

"In my little town
I never meant nothin
I was just my fathers son
Saving my money
Dreaming of glory
Twitching like a finger
On the trigger of a gun"

-Simon and Garfunkel

They are called classics because they are always poignant.

I was talking to my Dad about Simon and Garfunkel not too long ago, and discussing how they were among the first, if not the first to put modern poetry to music.

BTW, my parents "song" was The Sounds of Silence.

I can't help, after growing up listening to them, to still be astounded by what they did.

I have to thank my awesome parents for having such great taste and for exposing me to it.

Link Update

2009-06-24T20:05:00.000-07:00

I am happy to say that Jay Young's link for The Heroes Series has been updated, and is now working. :)

Another Cool Book - Duchess Harris

2009-06-09T18:54:00.000-07:00

http://us.macmillan.com/author/duchessharris
Another cool book by a cool author!
I share the joy; that is my part-time job. :)

Heroes Die Young

2009-05-27T19:18:00.000-07:00

The link is listed in my Cool Books by Cool People links. Check it out; you'll have a good read!

The Unbreakable Child

2009-04-28T19:06:00.001-07:00

Congratulations to Kim Michele Richardson for the publication of her book, The Unbreakable Child which is being released by Kunati Press! The link is here: The Unbreakable Child, author, Kim Michele Richardson

Kudos to a first class writer and a first class individual, possibly one of the nicest in the blogosphere!

Let's go buy it now!

The Cover is Up!

2009-03-28T19:51:00.000-07:00

Capon Frank, the serial novel, is becoming Capon Frank, the Graphic Novel. My cover, thanks to my excellent artists Harsho Mohan Chattoraj and Shane Woodis, is now featured on the Capon Frank blog.

Credit Card Interest Cap Petition

2009-02-20T18:43:00.000-08:00

I received an interesting response to my petition which is posted on my links to the right of this page. The name is withheld as per the request of the writer.

"Cynthia, Found your petition on credit card interest. Good idea but… I cannot sign it because it is not enough. Need to request much more (less interest). The federal limit used to be 18% when prime interest exceeded 10%. Our politicians listened to the bank lobbyists and changed to law to allow these exorbitant rates. Prime is now 3.25%. Credit card limits should be no more than some reasonable multiple of prime. Say 3 to 4 times with a cap of 15% and late charges should also have a cap of some kind. Now in this time where we are bailing out the big banks (who are also the big credit card purveyors) there should be an even further cut in credit card interest charged, say 2 times prime for all banks accepting Tarp money. Also there should be limits on increases in any credit card rate based on the initial rate. And so on. This would make credit cards harder to come by as the banks would have to be more responsible for the risks. The high rates are based on the concept of easy credit and let the ones who pay make up for the ones who do not. How fair is that? An immediate change to this system would definitely benefit a lot of people and help the economy."

All are good points.

HELP!

2008-05-26T17:54:00.000-07:00

Woo Hoo!

It's out, folks. The Help anthology is now available for purchase right here: http://stores.lulu.com/preditorsandeditors

I'm looking forward to my copy.

P&E

2008-03-07T05:30:00.000-08:00

The author of the writers' watchdog website, Preditors and Editors, is being sued by a few predators.

For eleven years, Dave Kuzminski has provided countless writers with valuable industry information, informative links and helpful resources so that we can wade through the waters of hopeful representation and publication in an informed manner. This benefits writers and publishing professionals mutually; the writers know where to go and what protocol to follow, and the industry professionals have to deal with uninformed authors less frequently.

The service he provides is free to anyone with internet access, and thousands of us are grateful for it.

To get to the point, we want to return the favor and do what we can to help cover his legal expenses. Dave has saved many of us from publishing scams and fee charging agents.

(Credible literary agents do not charge fees! They take a standard percentage of an author's revenue!!!!!)

Here is the link to make a donation to Preditors and Editors: http://anotherealm.com/prededitors/penulist.htm

An anthology is in the works to generate revenue for Dave's legal expenses. I will post about it as soon as the information is available. The cover is shown above.

In Memory of Jamie and Catie

2008-01-14T07:50:00.000-08:00

We loved them in their presence and in their absence, and will continue to love them. My love and thoughts are with their dad Ken Arnott, the Arnott family, and Jamie's girlfriend, Kasey.

This comes from The Burlington Free Press:

West Charleston siblings die in two-car crash

Published: Friday, January 11, 2008
DERBY – Two West Charleston siblings were killed Friday morning after their car collided with another Friday morning.

Vermont State Police said James Flannery, 20, and a passenger, his sister Caitlyn Flannery, 18, died when the 2001 Dodge Neon in which they were riding skidded and crossed into the westbound lane on Shattuck Hill Road. The car struck a 1994 Ford van driven by David Currier, 42, of Derby.

Both occupants of the Dodge were pronounced dead at the scene. Currier suffered minor injuries and was treated at the scene.

There was not any evidence of alcohol or drugs at the scene. The case remains under investigation. Derby Line Fire Department, Derby Line Ambulance and Orleans County Sheriff Department assisted at the scene.

Credit Card Interest Update

2008-01-02T06:46:00.000-08:00

Though the petition for a Cap on Credit Card Interest Rates http://www.petitiononline.com/cccir299/petition.html has received 58 signatures, I need to accumulate a more substantial number before submitting the petition, and therefore have a bit of work ahead of me.

It seems I am not the only one seeking reform. The following web pages are worth a look for those who believe that our usury laws need uniform amendment.
http://www.credit-card-cap.com

http://www.credit-protector.com

In a final plug, the link for the petition is on the right and listed as "Petition the Government."

I appreciate your participation! I'd really love to wrap this baby up and send it off before the Daytona 500 in February, because I will be distracted by stock cars afterwards.

Pullet Suprize Winner Strikes Again

2007-11-16T11:34:00.000-08:00

If you scroll down and look for the list of links on the right, you will find a link to a new blog which I have created specifically for my serial novel,
Capon Frank.
If you do not wish to scroll, you might find the blog on http://caponfrank.blogspot.com.

New installments will be posted twice per month.

New Web Links on Surgite

2007-11-09T05:44:00.000-08:00

It is my pleasure to add the following links to Surgite:

Standing Rule is rife with intriguing political theory and commentary. My thanks to Robeiae, a man with far too many vowels, for bringing us this feast.

Kenfusion is downloadable. This is one of Ken Arnott's many links for his musical project, Kenfusion. Others include http://www.acidplanet.com/artist.asp?songs=364050&T=8087 and http://kenguru22-absurdities.blogspot.com/
He ain't heavy. He's my brother.

My Links Are Showing

2007-10-16T05:59:00.001-07:00

As a public service to the blogosphere, I have added author links to the right side of my blog. Please note the "Cool Books by Cool People" list, which is likely to grow over time.

Many, but not all, of the books are young adult fiction. Dale Peck's second book in the Drift House series has been released, and can be seen here: http://www.kidsreads.com/reviews/1582348596.asp Last, my congratulations go to John Elder Robison for making the New York Times Bestseller list for his book about growing up with aspergers syndrome, look me in the eye.

Happy reading to all!

Talladega Awaits!

2007-10-04T08:35:00.000-07:00

After the marathon in Kansas last Sunday, I am looking forward to high speeds and clear skies at the Talladega Superspeedway.

September 30th was a testament to the maxim that cautions breed more cautions in a frustrating race for a number of the chasers. After waiting out two rain delays and eleven cautions, I set my hopes on watching a white-green flag for a race to the checkered flag. Despite the Nascar judgement to shorten the race to 200 laps, a final call ended the race with one lap to go and the drivers followed the pace car across the finish. Sigh. Though Biffle seemed happy about the win, I'm sure he would have preferred it from racing to the end.

In summation, if I win the lottery, I plan to buy lights for Kansas Speedway.

On to happier events: October 7th is nearly here!

Life As A Writer

2007-10-01T06:15:00.000-07:00

The Boxer
Paul Simon

"I am just a poor boy,
Though my story's seldom told.
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises,
All lies and jest,
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest.

When I left my home and family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers,
In the quiet of the railroad station, runnin' scared,
Layin' low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go,
Looking for the places
Only they would know.

Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job,
But I get no offers,
Just a-come on from the whores on 7th Avenue.
I do declare
There were times when I was so lonesone
I took some comfort there.

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone, going home,
where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me,
Leading me,
Going home.

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade,
And he carries the reminders
Of every blow that's laid him low
And cut him 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving,"
But the fighter still remains."

We do what is in our nature to do.

The Hole In The Sky

2007-09-14T06:01:00.000-07:00

“‘He could perceive that you had seen
the Hole in the Sky. Never speak of it again.
Rabbits who have seen it, like yourself,
don’t want to talk about it, and those who haven’t
only think you’re strange.’
El-ahrairah took the experience to heart and
felt himself the wiser. He never again saw the
Hole in the Sky, and he never spoke glibly about it,
especially to rabbits who he could perceive
had undergone a suffering something like his own.”

--Richard Adams, Tales From Watership Down

Hurricane Season

I stand on one blue eye
In the center and its clear
Unless I slide down the lens
When the phone rings and my Mom
Opens up the funnel to another
Cataclysm of broken debris
Sucking past my ears.
I blink
And the sky’s an unmanageable terror.
I gauge the winds
Unable to tell
If this one’s bigger than the last,
Always afraid of
Over-reacting
Even when I’m flattened
By an incidental blow.
That’s when my Dad
Gets on the phone,
The wind a dim siren
Behind him. He says
I’m lucky to be in Jersey.
Later we’ll all be
Numb from the storm,
Our ears less keen and
We’ll bring up old storms
In a matter of fact tone;
Try to mix and match
The currents and the damage.
When the sun comes out,
Floating in surreal blue,
I’m all talked and figured out
And so I say nothing
But I’ll look at you and wonder:
Do you have storms?

C. Bronco 1998

What Did I Miss?

2007-08-13T08:59:00.000-07:00

I am thankful for Speed Network for providing a recap of the race at Watkins Glen.
SO!
Kevin gets into it with Juan Pablo Montoya, and supposedly fines will follow. I thought Kevin showed a good amount of restraint for a fireball. It didn't look like an intentional hit, I must rewatch the footage.

Tony wins again, and Joe Gibbs is signing Kyle Busch. It's an interesting domino effect; now J.J. Yeley has to find a new team. Evernham's receiving new sponsorship, will Yeley end up there? Or, perhaps he'll end up in a Toyota next year.

So much speculation. Four more races for Junior to get into the chase. Michigan is next Sunday. Let's go racing, boys!

Driving Job

2007-07-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

I want a hydraulic lift, spring action
For this car -- Boom baby!
And fly over those cars between
The traffic light and Locust Ave.
Nurturing a golden tan on my left forearm while
The towel slips my back hits
The ninety-six degree vinyl.
“Get me on the back roads” I grumble and Gumby,
Attached to my rearview mirror smiles
At the Buick Grandma behind us-
First gear, thank you God, working
To the Second, Third, Fourth gear
55 ac. With some quiet I can
Now hear the radio station on my
Portable car-home stereo in the passenger seat --
I want a cell phone for that
Music trivia question. The maps slide
Mastered to the side of the floor
As I turn the corner on the city skirts.
Next stop, grab the
Envelope, out the door and
Dog! Growls --how I hate
Home offices -- I grin, tilt my head,
“Take me to your leader,” the mutt
Does not respond. “Oh hello there,”
A voice jingles and “Manglor there
Won’t hurt you at all!” Hurray.
One, two, three, receipt, thank you, have a nice day,
And I’m back in action, the Diet Pepsi
Wedged next to the emergency break has
Heated with the car -- so I finish the can while
Shifting again and lighting
My cigarette -- This is the life:
Route 25 in the afternoon with its
Rich elms, luscious verdure,
Rising, falling hills and curves
Undulate over forgotten fields of
Corn husks drying in the heat --
I can’t feel it now,
But soar over the speed limit, sad to stop
Up a gravel drive where an old clock-maker
And his wife sit like New England,
Check in hand, then watch me leave.
Back on the road the land is mine
And I am my car, kicking tumbleweed
Behind on the beaten road. I herd
The packs of envelopes back to the office
Where the rush stops cold
In air-conditioned shade.
Settled and reprieved
I go home, and rate the day by U-turns.

C. Bronco

Junior In, Kyle Out

2007-06-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Wow.

http://www.nascar.com/2007/news/headlines/cup/06/13/dearnhardtjr.announcement/index.html

Dale Earnhardt Jr. singing with Hendricks was a surprise; my bets were on RCR. It raised so many questions: What number will he have? Will he still keep Budweiser as a sponsor? We've become very attached to a red car with a number 8, but I'm sure we will adjust. Or will Hendricks procure the number 8? Hmmmmm.

Then I wondered about the line-up of the Hendricks team; would they buy another number, or cut a current member out? I found out last night. Casey Mears and Kyle Busch have both been running very well, but Kyle, a 2006 Cup Chaser, has been taken off the 2008 Hendricks team. Now he is the big free agent.

I'll take a chance and wager he might end up with Joe Gibbs. I'm often wrong, but I'll wager it anyway. On the other hand, it would be awfully interesting to see him in a Toyota, and very good for Michael Waltrip. But what if Kyle signs with DEI?

My head is spinning; let's just focus on what's important: Michigan International Speedway, Sunday June 17, 2007, 12:30 PM EST. Aaah, that's better.

VIII of Cups

2007-06-06T06:02:00.000-07:00

I see the figure turn
At the witching hour,
Toward white thunder,
Ironstone amassed
Before the horizon,
Turn from a nostalgic tale
Toward one missing cup,
Just one missing.
No gold strike, soft wheat, warm honey,
No candlelight, aurora, moon, pale halo
Eclipse that one cup,
Never tasted, never had.
The story in the card
Is a story of turning.

C. Bronco

Good bye Miss Snark, And May Scores of Gin Pails Bring Thee to Thy Clooney

2007-05-21T07:28:00.000-07:00

Snark No More

Fear no more the weight o' the dragoon;
Nor the furious nitwit's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy partials;
Blogging agents and poodles all must,
Take a break and go home to dust.

Fear no more the fiction novels
That are past the cluestick's stroke:
Care no more for crapometers;
To thee the hook is as the gin pail:
The serial scrubbers and squirrels, must
All follow this, and enclose a SASE.

Fear no more the flaming hair,
Nor the purple unicorn query letters;
Fear not rumors of Rabbitania;
Thou hast schooled thy Snarklings better;
All authors young, all authors must
Consign to thee, and thy stilettos.

No Barbara Bauer harm thee!
Nor no Publish America charm thee!
Gmail overload forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Clooney consummation have;
And renowned be thy blog!

sigh

Middle of the Week

2007-05-17T06:18:00.000-07:00

Because she took so long,
Her plump white hands
Slow and precise
With the groceries:
Paper inside plastic,
Not paper or,
And the woman ahead
Who, matronly and patient,
Coifed, ran her check card
Two, three times, first upside down,
Then again when it processed
At last, and wrote her check
Neatly with an enameled pen,
One hundred sixteen dollars
And thirty eight cents,
“What was that?” asked the woman,
“One hundred sixteen dollars
And thirty eight cents”
Said the cashier, and I repeat,
Loudly, in my head.
Because of this I wobble
On tired ankles, lean this way
Then that in the small space
Between carts, confection and counter,
And recount my items, 19,
Seven too many for express,
And I fantasize
That I fall into my cart,
Eyes rolling back, crossing,
Head lolling stupidly,
That I drool, mouth open,
Tongue askew, arms and legs
Akimbo
Until the man behind me
Bumps my cart
And pushes me up to the cashier
Who duly notes my condition
As a clear effect
Of standing in a short line
For too long.

C. Bronco

Wake

2007-05-08T05:56:00.000-07:00

“I don’t want
To be bitter,” she said,
And magic is a wish,
A long, drawn, heartfelt wish
Between two people, one
Wanting the other’s
Wish to be true, it is
A watched pot boiling.

In one hand, frankincense
By the candle, in the other
Oil, herbs and stones,
And stories
Of wine after death,
Of gathering, of calling
Like some secret beacon;
The family comes together,
Bird and butterfly, stag and foal.

Each stands in that circle,
Together, each
That knows the other
In a succession of separate images,
Of atoms mixing in rising smoke,
Morning glories climbing
Over the lilac, opening, closing,
Of coming together in mourning.

The two women who knew
That home is a small flash
In time,
The fleeting lace of together
Draped around them sleeping
In a quiet house,
Could close their eyes
And still see the snuffed candles,
Embraces, and laughter
Of those tired past the point
Of aching,
The joined hands,
This most precious gift.

C. Bronco

May: Quote of the Month

2007-05-01T06:16:00.000-07:00

"Seems my creative genes have weird pockets."
-- Bernita Harris

Even though it's been 18 months since my previous Quote of the Month, which can be seen here:
http://cynthia-bronco.blogspot.com/2005/11/quote-of-month.html

Granta Magazine's "Best of Young American Novelists"

2007-04-23T09:52:00.000-07:00

from the LAT article by Scott Timberg
"Some of the issue's judges — besides Jack and White, novelist A.M. Homes, Slate's Meghan O'Rourke, Granta Publisher Sigrid Rausing and City Lights' Paul Yamazaki — were dismayed by the lack of attention to social class in the work of these young novelists across the ethnic and national spectrum.

O'Rourke, for instance, noted that the U.S. is increasingly economically polarized, but the young writers she read didn't seem particularly interested. She made a pitch to the other judges to look for writers with less posh backgrounds, or who seem interested in classes besides their own.

Jack too was disappointed to see so few novels reaching outside the middle or upper classes, especially in contrast to the days, just a decade ago, when Raymond Carver-influenced trailer-park novels were in vogue. (Even if they were often written by trust-fund kids, he noted.)

"In America all class analysis is forbidden," White wrote in his assessment. "It's as if the conflict and alienation offered in, say, the British novel by encounters with members of other, lower social classes are replaced in America by contrasts of First and Third World cultures."

"American novels," said Jack, "have become a bit like American films used to be. The question of money, of how do I keep myself alive, those questions were never addressed in American films because everybody was supposed to be jolly happy all the time and living well; their troubles were not financial."

And the reason may come from the increasing class insularity of the literary life.

"To go through this process of creative writing schools, now, to become a budding novelist, more and more means you need a certain amount of ancestral wealth. I hate to sound like a Marxist, but economics does govern a lot of life, especially cultural life."

Yep.
Edmund White, novelist and judge called it the "Peace Corps novel," where privileged young Americans encounter the Third World.
It is interesting what does and does not mark a work worthy of an award, likewise what topics and trends qualify a work as Literary.
I raised an eyebrow over this, but then remembered that I'm a lost cause: I doubt I'll ever write a novel that qualifies as Literary Fiction, nor do I really have a desire to read Literary Fiction. Is it because I don't have an MFA? I'll never know.
In the meantime, if a novel has a chase scene, otherworldly dimensions or creatures, FBI investigations, intrigue or a little guy with a lightning bolt shaped scar on his head, I know I will enjoy it.

This Year

2007-04-17T09:21:00.000-07:00

Spring isn’t coming.
The tulip shoots, only
A few inches high
Have turned, curled in
On themselves and
Sunk head-first
Into the ground.

The leafless trees
Will not bud. Old white
Leaves still hang
On a few forest branches,
Old, bleached, white:
Last year’s bones.

The maple’s bark is
Dry and gray; all of its
Color has leeched into the soil
And the world is winding down
And we are falling off
One by one.

C. Bronco

Gentle Readers

2007-03-30T11:48:00.000-07:00

I didn't realize that I haven't posted in a while. I have been fairly busy realizing a variety of diabolical plans. Some of which include: painting window frames, creating propaganda and reading the Star Wars Haiku thread on Absolute Write.

Soon I will resume posting, but not until after the cup race in Martinsville.
I'll see you shortly!

Kevin Harvick Wins the Daytona 500

2007-02-20T07:57:00.000-08:00

What a race! Next Sunday they race at the California Speedway at 3:00 PM EST.

Out of Gear

2007-02-13T05:44:00.000-08:00

It isn’t enough
To keep the v-8
At an idle in traffic --
You are close enough
To hear my heart running
On all pistons
Ready for acceleration
On an open road
Though I keep myself looking
Unlikely
In four shades of
Bondo, rustoleum,
Torn vinyl cap.
I’m screaming for it
With the
Coolant in my veins
Too watered down
To calm the 3 mile per hour
Crawl I’ve been sitting in
For too many exits.
I will stall
Or I will explode.
The shoulder winks at me;
There’s always room for the dead.

C. Bronco

Where's That Green Flag?

2007-02-01T06:41:00.000-08:00

Seventeen Days to go until the Daytona 500! February 18th creeps nearer, and I scramble for any footage of cars and drivers on TV. I have just over two weeks to learn the new points system, and come to terms with Kevin Harvick's new paint schemes. I'm sure I will adjust, though the 29's black Goodwrench scheme was one of the slickest on the track. I'd better buy a new hat.

So much to look forward to: Mike Wallace's Toyotas, another Race to the Chase, new drivers, returning drivers, a little bit of Mark Martin here and there, and if I hit the lottery, a new plasma screen TV for me.

Query Letter Make-over

2007-01-05T11:57:00.000-08:00

Thanks to the efforts of Miss Snark and assorted Snarklings, I have reworked my hook into something more coherent. But first, let's take a look at the before

HH Com 269 (266)

The dream began just as the others had: flying through blackness and following a thin, silver chord. Gavin stopped short inside an empty office. A large map of the U.S., speckled with dozens of red dots, hung in front of him. He slid through a wall to face several men in uniform, bent over blueprints which were splayed on a large, polished table. Their uniforms were like nothing he'd seen before. One of them raised his head and looked at Gavin. He was very, very angry.

(your hook starts here)East 42, the subterranean training school for the Haven, seems like everything Gavin had wished for during isolated and boring summers spent poring over comic books. His classmates train in E.S.P. and telekinesis as he discovers his talent for astral projection. But after he projects into a top office for Haven security, he falls under the scrutiny of its leaders and becomes the target for Pellere, the ex-Prime based military group.

As Gavin uncovers the Haven's plans for the construction of a bizarre new weapon, he gains unlikely allies in his quest to thwart them. The fight escalates into a campaign on Washington and a war on the battlegrounds of the Astral Plane. Gavin Beckett and the Ward world above are about to turn down a frightening new road.

You splat at "falls under the scrutiny". First, isn't he supposed to be projecting? Did he happen on to something he shouldn't see? That's key info here.

You introduce the bad guys in the second clause of a compound sentence that makes them seem like an afterthought. Are they the bad guys?

And why is he opposed to Haven constructing a new weapon? Isn't he on their team? I want my team to have very big, very scary weapons. Killer Yapp is in fact commissioning a motorized sling shot in his ongoing arms escalation in the squirrel war.

I've stopped reading by the time I get to the last paragraph cause it's stopped holding together for me.

Start over. KY is available for armament consultation as needed.

And now, the after:

East 42, the subterranean training school for the Haven, seems like everything Gavin had wished for during isolated and boring summers spent poring over comic books. His classmates train in E.S.P. and telekinesis while he discovers his talent for astral projection. But after he is caught projecting into a top office for Haven security and viewing blueprints to a mysterious machine, he falls under the scrutiny of Haven leaders. Further, this escapade makes him a target for Pellere, a terrorist group of disenfranschised Haven members.

Gavin and his friends discover the Haven's plans for the construction of a bizarre new weapon which will enable Haven leaders to use mass mind control. One of the Haven's leaders is pushing a five-year plan which includes aggressive enforcement of censorship in households with children. Gavin and his friends gain some unlikely allies as they scheme to fight the Save The Children Campaign. The fight escalates into a campaign on Washington and a war on the battlegrounds of the Astral Plane. Gavin Beckett and the Ward world above are about to turn down a frightening new road.

Any better?

Aha!

2007-01-02T06:28:00.000-08:00

I finally found a poem I'd been looking for:
"Weave Room: Baptism" by Michael Chitwood. I mentioned it in a post some time ago, though I only remembered it vaguely. It reminds me so much of Melville's "The Paradise of Bachelors and the Tartarus of Maids."

Mutable

2006-12-24T18:33:00.000-08:00

Once you set foot on this ground
You are not the same.
The world moves differently, has
A different hue,
Darker colors.
Then you’re away, you do other things
And come back some years later
To the same town.
You’ve changed yourself, or
You’ve gone back to what you were before,
That’s it, that’s
What you think.
Back in this town it looks different, the
Colors run a fuller span, the
People you’d met before are
Probably still there.
You don’t see them.
It’s
Not because you aren’t looking
Though you aren’t. They
Go to the market in other hours,
Use the gas pump when you aren’t at it.
They don’t live in your neighborhood.
When you see one, she
Does not recognize you, only
For a moment thinks she might,
Then shakes her head, no, and passes on
Brushing you from her thoughts.
And you don’t wave, don’t
Invite the memory.
And you like it this way.
They wouldn’t know you, the
Others who barked their ankles on uneven pavement
While you were scraping along the same street.
You drive down it now
On your way to errands.
Your landmarks are different.
You like it this way.

University U.

2006-12-13T08:11:00.000-08:00

Our University is better than the rest,
Nobody else gives a BS in BS.
Sign up today if you want a BA
In drunken spelunking or mold macramé.
We have minors in minors and study abroad
In seventeen countries, depending on which
The broad is residing, you may have your wish.
If self-designed majors are truly your thing,
A list is on show in the Registrar’s wing.
We have
Old women’s studies and shoe engineering,
Moby Dick quoting and buffalo spearing,
Intensive geography of northern Pawtucket,
Psychological profiles of men in a bucket,
Deficit spending and subway embarking,
Hob-nobbing, schmoozing and SUV parking,
And then for the wildly ambitious who seek it,
A major in English, we’ll learn you to speak it!
As for the dorms, no one’s are greater,
For each room’s equipped with its own Keg-erator.
All of our grads are just pickled with joy,
And each finds success in his own employ.
Our University is better than the rest.
Hail University U., the scourge of the west!

C. Bronco

Nice Little Study

2006-12-07T05:38:00.000-08:00

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16077694/

Too bad they failed to factor in the rising cost of living, or include the nouveau poor who are neither immigrants nor inner city emmigrants.

NaNoReWriMo

2006-12-06T10:02:00.000-08:00

I missed out on the National Novel Writing Month, which, I believe, was sometime in November. The premise was good: write a novel in one month. I think if I had the time to attempt that much in one month, I would be able to do it. I don't think the results would be that fantastic, but I'd probably come up with something.

I liked writing one chapter per week while skipping a week here or there. Sometimes I needed a week to work out plot elements.

I feel guilty for not participating, but to compensate, I am having my own National Novel Re-Write Month. During this month (which will fall sometime in December)I will finally and thoroughly rework my entire book. I've tinkered here and there, but I don't think I've really addressed the weaknesses.

I invite anyone (excluding those who do not live in a nation, of course)to join me in NaNoReWriMo. Cheers!

Sandwich Poll Results and Analysis

2006-11-16T09:09:00.000-08:00

A ground-breaking precedent was set last week when Superior Court Judge Jeffrey Locke ruled that a burrito is not a sandwich. Read about it here: http://articles.news.aol.com/business/_a/judge-rules-a-burrito-is-no-sandwich/20061110153509990032

Though I am no Culinary Historian, I do know how to gauge the pulse of the people: via internet poll.

When asked "Should the ruling that a burrito is a non-sandwich be upheld?" twenty-two members of the Absolute Write Water Cooler responded. 64% of respondents indicated "Yes. A burrito is clearly not a sandwich," and 5% chose "No. Our country needs a more liberal interpretation of sandwich." Of the remaining respondents, 18% stated "Yes, but only in states subject to Orlando Bloom," and 14% stated "You want to see a sandwich? I'll show you a sandwich, baby!" Not a single one of those polled selected "I don't care. I don't eat sandwiches or burritos," which gives striking evidence that apathy over lunchtime fare is a thing of the past.

The people have spoken; 82% of all respondents endorsed Judge Locke's decision either with or without regard to Orlando Bloom. When asked to comment, one respondent expressed concern over the classification of jaffa cakes. It seems that the Culinary Historians (capitalized for added effect) may find more and more work as expert witnesses as the courts weed out injustice among food items.

This reporter predicts that eventually there will be widespread acceptance of the burrito as a non-sandwich. It is already well on its way, as is the resurgence of the classic maxim:
"One man's frivolity is another man's burrito." Indeed.

*Cynthia Bronco has received the Pullet Suprize for Most Creative Use of Orlando Bloom in a Poll. She thanks Dawno, and credits AW for providing the means to conduct her research, and champion the ongoing quest for nutritive reform.

New Jersey Usury Limits

2006-11-15T07:57:00.000-08:00

from the New Jersey Permanent Statutes Database
2C:21-19 Wrongful credit practices and related

"For the purposes of this section and notwithstanding any law of this State which permits as a maximum interest rate a rate or rates agreed to by the parties of the transaction, any loan or forbearance with an interest rate which exceeds 30 %per annum shall not be a rate authorized or permitted by law, except if the loan or forbearance is made to a corporation, limited liability company or limited liability partnership any rate not in excess of 50% per annum shall be a rate authorized or permitted by law."

My thanks to Wikipedia. From what I have gathered, not all states have usury limits. If I'm not mistaken, late fees and overlimit fees are also counted toward the total allowed interest, however, the searches I have done have yielded sketchy results. Though the above paragraph seems clear enough, apparently there are many exceptions to the rule.

My initial conviction remains; 30% interest is outrageous at best. Further, no one chooses a credit card that charges 30% interest unless they are desperate or daft. Late payments boost the interest rates from reasonable to unreasonable. We need a more equitable cap that will enable consumers to reduce their debt.

I'm not wasting time by leaving this on the back burner. The kids here in NJ are going to need the relief once the state introduces tolls to our remaining free highways.

Cap on Credit Card Interest

2006-11-14T05:50:00.000-08:00

My idea is not new, but it does address a dire need which has been shuffled to the back of the deck several times before. Here are a few links I found while searching for information related to past cases regarding credit card interest rates:

http://www.smartagreements.com/bltopics/Bltopi35.html
http://www.lectlaw.com/files/ban02.htm

According to the latter link, it appears that New Jersey sets usury at 30%, one of the highest stated on the list.

This brings us to the debate: Should we have a national standard for legal limitations on interest, or lobby to amend the laws state by state?

I see no downside to federal reform. New Jersey has a higher average income per household and higher cost of living than most states, but percentages have a similar affect across the board.

The petition is right here: http://www.petitiononline.com/cccir299/petition.html

Two Races to Go

2006-11-09T18:59:00.000-08:00

I'm not looking forward to the off season. What will I watch, NHRA? I may have to.

I don't even want to hazard a guess at the Nextel winner. The points change drastically, and even the third turn on the last lap brings many surprises. Tony will have a different car this week; perhaps a chaser will win the race at Phoenix. For Homestead, however, his uber fast 20 car will be back.

We are down to five drivers for the cup championship: Jimmie Johnson, Matt Kenseth, Dale Earnhardt Jr., Kevin Harvick, Denny Hamlin, and possibly Jeff Gordon could squeak by. Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm, I'm not saying a word. I don't want to jinx anything.

Perhaps a nice red car will win and make my son very, very happy.

The Cold Has Come In

2006-11-04T18:29:00.000-08:00

I step outside
On this bright, late autumn afternoon.
The birds are atwitter,
They start flying
East. They head East.
All of them.
Their singing stops
As if even they can't stand
On this patch of land.
I'm left with silence, pause, listen.
It's that wrong: there's
Silence save for the sound of a plane.

C. Bronco

No one ever "gets" this one, so I'll put it here and confuse everybody just because.

2006-11-03T10:10:00.000-08:00

Bert's Fashion Triumph

He said he would
Tattoo the shirt onto his back
To fit in,
And do it in the proper colors
So he would look natural
In a group.
He had a friend
Who stumbled over the concept
Of original sin.
She read that Adam and Eve,
After the apple incident,
Stood in the garden
And noticed they were naked.
Ashamed, they grabbed some leaves
To use as clothes.
She still didn’t get it.

C. Bronco

Oral Tradition

2006-10-27T11:48:00.000-07:00

They say I’m killing it
With ink, in writing
The poem;
It dies
On the page with
My black bic.
Before I put it down,
They say
It has life, it
Breathes and grows.
That’s before
I stab it down to the paper,
Mark after mark with my pen,
Clumsily, greedily
Pinning it down, pleased
With its death.

C. Bronco
'tis the season

Beta Bothers

2006-10-24T05:51:00.000-07:00

I was enticed to Beta by fun formatting. Unfortunately, a side effect is the inability to comment on non-beta Blogger blogs. (Say that ten times fast).

Until they work out the kinks, I just want my pals to know I'm still stopping by for your illuminating posts.

Seven Wonders of the Modern World

2006-10-20T07:35:00.000-07:00

Architects from around the globe have been invited to vote on the new Seven Wonders. It isn't right, really, they could have just asked me. I've sorted it all out. Here we go:

7. The Internet

6. The World's Largest Popcorn Ball
http://www.pionet.net/~setd/popcorn-ball.html

5. Ampanman
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ampanman

4. The Sewage Treatment Plant

3. McDonald's Drive-Thru

2. Atlanta Motor Speedway
The fastest track as stated on www. nascar.com

1. See Photo Below

And the Winner Is:

2006-10-19T11:46:00.000-07:00

Because he defies all laws of nature, as well as coconut trees.

"You do what you are"

2006-10-02T07:09:00.000-07:00

From Along Came a Spider, James Patterson

Here's another:

"In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade,
And he carries the reminders
Of every blow that's laid him low
And cut him 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving,"
But the fighter still remains."

"The Boxer," Paul Simon

And this one:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16549

You gotta do what you gotta do. There is no other way. And there never was.

Today's Message Brought to You By...

2006-09-23T09:32:00.000-07:00

We all hear grievances about "selling out," or commercialism ruining the fun of a sport or the arts. We criticize our key sources of entertainment for putting their primary focus on money; how much does Derek Jeter make?

Well, as George Thoroughgood would say, "that don't confront me." The way I see it, it's a part of our great American culture. I didn't grow up eating gelatin and freezer pops. I grew up eating jello and popsicles. My grandmother didn't get things out of the refrigerator; she got them out of her Frigidaire. That's part of the reason I like Quentin Tarantino; he recognizes that pop culture has become an intrinsic part of our common experiences. His episode of C.S.I. may have been a little over the top, but I as a viewer found the comfort and amusement in the sequence where two forensic specialists took time out to enjoy the Dukes of Hazard board game. Here I remind you that the deputy's name was spelled Enos. (Note the italics for extra emphasis).

Therefore, I'll drive to work and perk up every time I see a triple A sign because I immediately think of Mark Martin, whose commercial with Carl Edwards is extremely entertaining. The only part of the Super Bowl I pay attention to is the half time show because I like the commercials, and, if I'm lucky will see the Rolling Stones and not Janet Jackson's body jewelry. The NASCAR commercials by far outweigh half time commercials for entertainment value, and my son eats Jimmie Johnson and Kyle Busch fruit snacks.

If I had more money, I'd own a fine array of Harry Potter legos, NASCAR clothing, car accessories and toys. I hold on to the Mr. Bill mirror and Welcome Back Kotter record case from my youth as if they were original copies of the Declaration of Independence. When I die, my son can sell them on Ebay. Ah! I love buying Product!

Yes, yes.

Constructing the Self-Portrait

2006-09-19T05:30:00.000-07:00

The fractured self
And I on the banks of
That river,
We stop
Counting stones
And look
Under the shadow
Of the long willow,
Long shadow,
The grass a green pad
Except in the shadow
It’s spare.
We look
At each other,
Each time another vision:
First
A dance
To catch the shadow,
Take it in.
We fail,
It eludes us.
Next
Ankle deep in the water,
The rushing water,
The light reflects
Like a picture where
We do not look like ourselves
And we relish,
Knowing it false
And try to recapture
To no avail.
When the others come,
Will they see the struggle on the bank,
The posing
Or the stretching?
On the last look
We make a
Blood oath:
The I is the fire,
The force, the
Desperation,
The I is the
Elusive whole
Less our reflection,
More
The empty hands
Pulling shadow
Toward the heart,
The ill fitted limbs
That sway
Without grace,
That cannot catch,
The lips
That fail to name.

C. Bronco

Still Scared of Gore

2006-09-11T18:45:00.000-07:00

I briefly lost control of the remote during Saturday night's Nextel race, and in that interim saw a bit of the VH1 documentary on Heavy Metal. Aside from the nostalgia, and warm and fuzzy feelings it induced, I was happy to view footage of the PMRC hearings from the 1980's, specifically, Dee Snider at his best. I'm dying to see the entire footage of his testimony/deposition/defense/whatever position it was that he was supposed to play in that mockery of American democracy.

I'll take my hat off to Dee any day. He was able to define the role of art in clear and eloquent terms.

I remember the hearings and the whole hullabaloo well. It seemed that, during my youth, all of the things I enjoyed most were under fire, from music to (cough) playing dungeons and dragons, to playing assasin (an innocuous but fun game engineered by a high school friend which involved plastic guns with rubber pellets where the last man standing won half the profit from the entry fees). Ah, youth!

Anyhow, between that, and reading Orwell, Bradbury and Huxley, as I stated in a previous post, I could not help but be affected. Also, I love to write. I don't want to be censored. Looking back, it's no wonder that I chose that topic as the central theme of my YA novel.

Don't worry: I did get to see Harvick win (for the second time!) at Richmond. Boy, do I love cable.

Miss Snark, Superhero

2006-09-02T16:02:00.000-07:00

I prepare for evisceration with a giddy smile on my face. I jump up and down wondering, "Am I a Nitwit, or worse?" I am one of the few chosen for the fabulous Miss Snark's legendary Crapometer, which opened on Friday for twelve hours.

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, there is an amazing blog at http://misssnark.blogspot.com. She is an anonymous literary agent who dispenses information and snark in an entertaining manner to aid the clueless hopefuls who seek literary representation and possible publication. In short, I have learned more about the publishing industry from her than from any other source, and anyone who has written a book would benefit from viewing her site.

The "Crapometer" is a fantastic opportunity. She offered to critique 100 query letters and first pages for aspiring writers. Apparently she is a glutton for punishment as well, and an altruist in the true sense. I will receive free clues, or be told I'm out of my mind for my attempts. Either or, I win.

For those who strive for publication of their novels or non-fiction books, I must also recommend the website http://www.sfwa.org/prededitors/, Preditors and Editors. It's priceless. At that site, you can check the references of any literary agent in the field, and determine the respectable agents from the disreputable.

Anyway, I may be in for some serious rewrites, but at least I'll have some direction. Regardless of her response, I nominate Miss Snark for Hero of the Year, and encourage anyone serious about becoming a published author to check out her site. Good luck to you all.

In the Pious Mansion

2006-08-21T18:27:00.000-07:00

The crone wafted from the grand staircase
Over the hardwood floors.
I smiled and she spoke to me, she said
"There's not much light around you..."
Then she moved closer, put her cheek to my cheek.
I didn't pull away; I wanted to be nice.
"If I die tomorrow, I want you to know," she said,
"I'm not saying this to be mean.
You're not a good person."

I believed her.
We didn't stay much longer,
And then I was out in open air,
Going down the road with my son,
Listening to his music, the
Shuffle of his tiny feet, his laugh
Rippling across the new green leaves
Fanned against a bright blue sky.

C. Bronco

H.P. Lovecraft in Children's Programming

2006-08-15T14:49:00.000-07:00

If you never thought you'd see the above words linked together, well, now you have. My son and I watched The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy on Cartoon Network today, and were privy to an episode called "The Call of Cthulhu." It gave the classic a new twist: Cthulhu was summoned to conquer humanity via a telephone in the Grim Reaper's basement. Frolicsome fun ensued, and Cthulhu was eventually foiled by a cell phone.

If you're saying "Huh?" you may want to look at this site http://www.hplovecraft.com/. He was one of the founding fathers of horror fiction, influencing many greats such as Stephen King and Clive Barker. The movie In the Mouth of Madness, with Sam Neill, was an appropriate homage to his works, and last, any fan of Dungeons and Dragons knows about the Cthulhu Mythos. (How did I know that? I must be a nerd.) My novel also has a touch of Lovecraftian fun towards the end, maybe, just a touch.

"In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming"

Rewrite 12 Step Program

2006-08-15T06:09:00.000-07:00

What does a girl do when she knows her first chapter is the weakest chapter in the novel...

Ah yes, the writer goes through many emotional phases in the process of acquiring an agent. At first she ignores the fact that chapter one is the least intriguing and hopes the remainder of the book makes up for it. After all, the publishing house will ask for rewrites anyway, right?

She struggles with mourning, all the while sustaining denial. In the back of her mind she makes paltry plans on revision, but none which excite her.

Then, as if by miracle, rejections on two partials return. Their comments point in one direction only. A magical anvil falls upon the writer and smacks her on the head. Dazed, yet somehow pleased, the writer grabs her notebook and forms a proper beginning for her young adult masterpiece.

Nascar at Charity Event

2006-08-02T06:29:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, August 6, 2006, Tony Stewart's Home Depot 20 car will arrive in New Jersey along with the team trailer. A number of items will be raffled off to benefit the Two Kids Foundation. The address and times are listed on the Joe Gibbs site. The link is below; click on it, scroll down and look on the right hand side.

http://www.joegibbsracing.com/current_season/showcar.php

The Ballroom

2006-08-01T11:33:00.000-07:00

The Ballroom

It's one more place that
I don't belong:
The ballroom gilded and the walls
Hung with precious paper
That I don't know
The name for, no doubt
There's a proper name for it,
Something French most likely,
That I can not pronounce.
I'm here in off hours, that's
When I see this type of place,
When I'm repairing the plaster
Or called for a meeting
Of some visiting group
And I arrive
In jeans and sneakers.
A co-worker once said
That the girls at the prom
Were having their first
Black-tie event.
I've never been to a
Black-tie event, my husband
Does not own a suit, just
A few nice shirts and
A handful of ties
For weddings and funerals.
Here in the ballroom
I'm just a viewer, as much
As I would be
From home in my element
Which consists of the following:
Couch, husband, blanket, TV
And remote.

C. Bronco

Dragon Hunt

2006-07-28T06:54:00.000-07:00

Honestly, I do write about other stuff, but I seem to have a theme going, so I'll throw in this one too:

Dragon Hunt

What wild fire is this?
My nerves are raw and
My nails are red, clear,
Wild red.
I dream of danger.
I climb up rough bark,
Its creases
Coarse under hand,
A rough neck and face.
I rake over
Powerful limbs,
And the rain is fleeting,
Making only
Steam like an
Unnatural fog.
The forest is
No one’s haven;
It is its own
Savage ride.
What can my
Lips touch, my
Hands push to
Quell this
Scorching?

C. Bronco

20 Car Comes to New Jersey

2006-07-12T08:05:00.000-07:00

A Nascar Fan Public Service Announcement

Tony Stewart won't be here, but his car will. Be there on Sunday, August 6, 2006 at The Birchwood Manor Car Show in East Hanover, NJ. The event benefits the Two Kids Foundation http://www.twokidsfoundation.org and proceeds will aid children who have been diagnosed with cancer or other serious diseases.

Zen and Desire

2006-07-03T07:09:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago someone stated that true happiness came from the absence of desire, and attributed the idea to Buddhism. I can't see that.

All of the things that drive me stem from desire: I want my family to be happy, and I want success in writing as it's all I've ever really wanted to do. What I want keeps me looking forward, and makes me eager to get home at the end of the day. It vexes me at the same time, but I'd rather have frustration and longing than nothing.

And I hear Morgan Freeman's voice in the last lines of The Shawshank Redemption, "...I hope. I hope."

And the alternative is withering:

"I feel the autumn fail - all that slow fire
denied in me, who has denied desire."
from "The Sequel" by Theodore Roethke

Opus (of the) Dei

2006-06-19T10:18:00.000-07:00

I wrote this one five years ago. I'd long wanted to use the term "mortification of the flesh" in a poem, and because it's now in vogue, well, here we go:

A Day of Prayer

It is not only
Physical labor, it is
The mortification of the flesh,
The barter of suffering
For one divine
Wish,
The subterfuge of
A five gallon paint bucket and
Four flights of stairs,
The lie behind
Grasping the heaviest load
Out of the pile
When I pick first,
Because I do not have
A leather whip, or
If I did I would not
Hit hard, would not
Have the adoration of the act
To leave marks.
Rather, it’s in the pace,
The ceaseless rhythm
Of the shovel until
The wheel barrow can not be filled
Or unfilled, ‘til
The entire pile of mulch,
Or gravel is gone, placed in place,
Done.
There must be some
Omniscient God
Who sees my suffering,
Clip-board in hand and
Checks a box, yes,
Pain here, there, there,
And ignores my motive, grants my
Reward, my
Wish,
My wish,
My wish.

Open Season on Free Range Bronco

2006-06-15T06:27:00.000-07:00

I've slapped a target on my back and invite you to fire at will.
Disclaimer: This is a metaphor. Please do not take it literally.

The most recent version of my query letter follows, and I'm open to any advice or criticism. Please!

Dear Fabulous Agent,

What happens when we grow complacent with our freedoms? We give them away; we pass the Save the Children Bills and give The Matrons the authority to search any home in which a child resides to extract banned books, videos and games. The generation that should remember McCarthy and The Hollywood Ten brought us wreckage at Brooklyn College. Let’s see if the next generation can do better.

In the 71,000 word young adult novel The Haven, Gavin Beckett, age twelve, enters prime society as the push for the Save the Children Campaign begins. At first he is enticed by the underground society’s spectacle and privilege. The Haven is a society for people with paranormal abilities who guide the country, believing that their goals are altruistic. As Gavin and his cohorts learn of The Haven’s power over “ward” government and their despotic plans, they scheme to stop them.

I have enclosed a brief synopsis, the first ten pages and a SASE. I hope that The Haven suits your interests in (fill in the blank). Thank you for taking the time to consider my work.

Sincerely,
Me

Thanks in advance. RE: Brooklyn College: http://plancensored.blogspot.com/2006/05/students-shocked-by-brooklyn-colleges.html

Version 2

Dear Fabulous Agent,

I hope you will consider reading my manuscript, The Haven, a 71,000 word, young adult Orwellian fantasy. I learned of your agency from the Publisher’s Marketplace website, and I am very excited about the prospect of working with you.

Protagonist Gavin Beckett leaves the doldrums when a recruiter pulls him out of seventh grade to join East 42, the training grounds for the vast, underground network called the Haven. The Haven is a society for people with paranormal abilities who guide the country, believing that their goals are altruistic. Gavin inadvertently astral projects into a high security area of the Haven, and falls under the scrutiny of their leaders. As the Haven initiates a campaign for censorship and societal oppression, Gavin and his cohorts scheme to stop them.

My biography is brief: I graduated from .... University with a BA in English and a minor in writing. My credits include publication in Insanity’s Horse and Helvidius. My goals are to write a sequel to The Haven, collaborate on a screenplay, and engage in further fiction projects.

A synopsis and SASE follow. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Pocono Raceway: Nascar Interlude

2006-06-13T07:07:00.000-07:00

Thanks to RVing with my beloved pals at Lead Lap Sports www.leadlapsports.com I've made a full recovery from my previously posted episode of publishing angst. Say that ten times fast.

The day of the race was great; the wind died down just enough and the sun came out. Awesome.

Until I figure out how to put links on the blog, I'll post them here. For some really wild Nascar merchandise, check out

http://www.catchfence.com/html/2006/lt061306.html

and, of course, the Lead Lap site.
I love you guys. Thanks!

Man oh Man oh Man

2006-06-07T11:08:00.000-07:00

I’m taking in less caffeine today for obvious reasons. I’ve gone a step further and self-prescribed Nascar therapy for this weekend as I wait in joyful hope for the responses from my partials. Hold on a minute – I need to find my power animal. Okay, there, I’m back.

MS in a Bottle

2006-06-06T10:24:00.000-07:00

.... or in a 9x12 envelope. (Whine alert!!!)

So my co-worker friend says to me, she says, "I don't understand how someone would read this book and turn it down," I says "I know!" Because I've rigged it so that when you turn the last page the manusript goes "Ka-ching! Ka-ching!" and my Mommy liked it and I didn't even use the scented pink and purple unicorn paper when I sent it to agents (I'm reserving that for my resume in case I ever want to change jobs).

On top of that, if Vin Diesel is doing Hannibal, how is he ever going to find time to play Coffin in the movie (which, of course, won't start filming until after the book has been released so maybe there's time after all) but I digress.

So here I've got my Young Adult Orwellian, Harry Potter novel with X-men undertones in the true tradition of Ray Bradbury which is a mouthful and would probably scare anyone in one sentence and leaves me with the question, "Where's my Mommy?!"

Millions of unformed action figures hang in the balance. They cry out to join the heaps of molded plastic toys that congregate under end tables in the heart of America (or one of the three piles in my living room). They dream of the day when they will swing their tiny plastic arms to champion the First Amendment and protect children everywhere from totalitarian pathos.

My clue stick was lost in the mail. If anyone has a used one that's been sitting idle in a closet, please send it my way.

Play Misty for Me

2006-05-25T10:47:00.000-07:00

I don't mean to frighten anyone with the 1970's Clint Eastwood movie reference, particulary as it was the forerunner of Fatal Attraction, but my eyes are getting misty.

I just ran into a former student who has informed me that Strunk and White's The Elements of Style is her favorite grammar book. (Because we are talking about grammar, those who have read the blog know that I haven't figured out how to use an underline in my posts and therefore resort to italics instead.) My joy is twofold. First, in order to have a favorite grammar book, one must like more than one. Second, she chose the right book.

Gosh, it makes me want to proofread my previous posts. I might even fix that sentence I started with a conjunction. Anyway, here's part of a handout I give my students as they prepare to write their college essays:

"Read Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style for answers to all of your grammar and style questions. Staple it to your uniform. Sleep with it under your pillow. It’s under one hundred pages long, paperback, less than ten bucks and one of the best investments you can make. .."

I feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing that yet another crusader is venturing forth to omit needless words and prefer "thus" to "thusly."

Melville shorts

2006-05-24T11:23:00.000-07:00

No, not the new fashion craze, I've been thinking about Melville's short stories. I'll be honest, I never read the entire Moby Dick though I was required to, twice, during my education. I skimmed several chapters, and I've long since forgotten most of the plot.

Two of Melville's short stories have stuck with me over the years, however. Bartleby the Scrivener and The Paradise of Bachelors and the Tartarus of Maids. (Yeah, that poor Bartleby - in 2006 he'd be doing data entry, but at least he'd be able to goof off on occasion and surf the web or check his horoscope to break up the monotony. He'd have a nice screen saver instead of a view of a brick wall.) But more I've been thinking of The Tartarus of Maids and a poem someone had brought into a group 2 years ago which I can't find and it's driving me nuts. I can't even remember a line from it, just the images: young women working in a mill with wet cloth. It was a short piece but striking and memorable enough for it to stand out among the hundreds of poems I've read since.

I remember who brought it in for the group, now, where's her email address????

More to follow...

Closer to the River

2006-05-17T05:52:00.000-07:00

The woods in the thick of summer: she’d seen it from the interstate with all of its fertile allure, deep green leaves. From the back of her parents' van as a child on a summer trip, the trees and grasses looked close to paradise under a blue sky. Older and driving, she knew the joy of simply looking from an air-conditioned car, safe from the humidity, gnats and heat. But today she was walking through it.

The hill wasn’t far from her small cabin, her retirement home as she called it, and it wasn’t far from the state line that led to her childhood domain of forts and walking sticks, or the road that reached forty miles to where her son settled with his wife and children. That’s where she really wanted to go, that road, but they were away on their vacation to the shore. Instead she climbed the slope, under pines and over a mossy log, stepping around the small shoots of maple and oak, deciduous among the conifers. She was glad to note that it wasn’t any harder, climbing at her age, as long as she didn’t extend her arm far to the right, and re-pull the tendons in her shoulder who had long been her enemies. She knew how to do it by now, without thinking; pull aside the briars, watch her footing, watch for holes, homes of snakes and foxes, she stepped around the small piles of pellets left by deer.

Why am I out here? She thought, staring the short distance behind her, her cabin out of sight. Because I can’t be there. She answered, fixed on the sound, faint enough to be the wind, but distinctly the rolling of water over rock. In her mind she saw her son, grown, happy, a father with his own children and wife, taking the time they needed to have as a family, the time they needed alone between sand and saltwater. She’d gone with them the last year, and remembered her grandson’s soft, suntanned face upturned in a smile as the surf swept
over his feet, and her grand-daughter reaching up to catch the spray, trailing seaweed, an oceanic sprite. The pictures turned in her mind, one after the other, the moments not caught by film but placed within her, kept safe: her husband in his work clothes, leaning over the bed to kiss their son on the cheek on an ordinary morning. She sorted through the pictures and stacked them as she turned back to the hill, taking the incline at an angle.

One thing she hadn’t saved in her memory was a small square of paper left on the kitchen table. She had written a simple note in case anyone came by,
“I went for a walk in the woods. –A.”

Coming to the top of the hill, the trees thinned and she heard the river clearly. As she climbed the steeper tract, she saw the summit, treetops and the sky above, a summer sky. She used her hands to gain the last ground before the ridge. On that small clearing, the pine needles beneath her hands had faded in the sun to a light golden brown. She rocked back to sit and wrapped her arms around her knees. The pictures kept coming, more she had stored for the sake of memory, to ward off loss. In the sun, she sat, sorting, stacking, the earth hard beneath her, her sides growing more rigid as she moved less and less.

She felt full; she had become full over the years. There was just so much more than she could contain –so much more joy, so much loss, and then hope. She had to pass it down, give it away, and she’d tried. As if to make more room, she rolled her head back, her chin to the sky like an open lid. Again, the sound of the river, she’d been on her way to the river.
Flat on all edges, her arms finished the perfect square that started with her back. Below, her heels met with her tailbone to form a solid, level base. With each breath, grain entrenched her wooden flesh, her true angles, dove tail joints, her six sides. There, atop the hill she waited, head tilted back, waited to make more room, to unload or to add, but her heart was full and still longing.

She waited until the wind whipped her head back down. Quiet among the trees, she heard the muted sound of wood on wood, not hollow but filled, solid. Closed and heavy, she could topple down the other side of the hill, perhaps knocked into motion by a passing animal. She’d slide, her hard wood rumbling over the underbrush, too fast to catch on a fallen limb. She’d slide all the way to the river, and slip in, water tight.

She wasn’t pine. She was a hardwood, oak, heartwood. It burns hotter, brighter, longer. She’d burn all the way down the river, that river that crosses under the long road. Her pictures, her treasure would fly up in great bright sparks, each a brilliant joy. Anyone who looked for her would find her.

The Poet on Stage

2006-05-12T10:55:00.000-07:00

Professor and Poet, Robert Carnevale tossed this question up for debate:

Should professional performers be hired to read a poet's work, or should the poet read the work himself?

The question was given with the acknowledgement that some poets have no desire to read their work in front of an audience, and some poets read horribly. Others are happily talented in both writing and presenting their work. Some people commented on the celebrity poetry readings last year (was it last year?) in Lincoln Center, and mentioned that Merril Streep and Natalie Portman, among others, stood out for the quality of their performances.

At present, the assumption is that the poet will present his own work. Mary Oliver delivers Mary Oliver's poems, and subsequently is paid for the reading. We have no "Poetry Performers" as we have Singers who sing, but do not write their songs.

There's a Bukowski poem (whose title I don't remember) where he talks about his anxiety and loathing of reading his work to an audience.

Well, well. It's an interesting idea. If there were actually a market for poetry, the conclusion would certainly hinge upon what makes money.

And now for a complete non sequitur

1. My very own "Snark Noir" was posted on my very ultimate most super best favorite blog, http://misssnark.blogspot.com on a May 11, 2006 post.

It Takes Me A While

2006-05-02T10:28:00.000-07:00

... but eventually I catch up. I finally approached and mastered the self-serve line at Home Depot, and so this inevitably comes next: the 2004 Pulitzer Prize Winner for Poetry, Franz Wright.

At first I was dismayed. I wondered why two poets in the same family could win the Pulitzer while I flounder around without a published book of poetry or an editor to nominate me. Then I read some of the pieces from Walking to Martha's Vineyard and determined to buy it. It became clear very quickly that he won the prize for a reason. Moreover, he has materialized on my list of favorite Pulitzer winners (along with Yusef Komunyakaa and Gwendolyn Brooks). I believe his latest book is God's Silence, and he's published 13 books of poetry prior to 2003.

What year is it? 2006? Anyhow, so I'm flipping through my copy of Czeslaw Milosz's Closer to the River, and realized I'd had it autographed by Robert Haas. I read a poem I'd previously overlooked, "Pierson College." Ostensibly, it's about his youth in Poland vs. his later years as a Professor at Yale. Going from one to the other, he lived two disparate lives, and this is a theme which has intrigued me lately. But the poem is fuller than that, and the more I think about it the more it seems to hold.

There's a special joy in discovering a new poem that is personally meaningful (even if I am the last in line for enlightenment and the rest of the world has already awarded the poets the Pulitzer and Nobel Prize respectively).

Intellectual Property

2006-04-07T08:32:00.000-07:00

I recently heard this quote attributed to T.S. (Terribly Sexy) Eliot:

"Good poets imitate, great poets steal." Hence the copious footnotes for The Waste Land I suppose! Imagine what he'd have to pay today to avoid a copyright infringement suit.

Anyhow, I'm glad Dan Brown has been let off the hook; the insanity is over. Why did it go to trial in the first place? I can guess why the suit was filed: Holy Blood, Holy Grail had fallen off the backlist sale charts. The lawsuit increased their sales 3,000% or something like that. Nice publicity stunt.

Why Corzine Stinks

2006-04-06T06:02:00.000-07:00

Our new ultra-liberal Governor John Corzine has decided to cut one of the best education programs in New Jersey, The New Jersey Governor's School. It had been established as a free program for high achieving students, and provided collegiate, work-intensive summer programs in the arts, public policy, the sciences, engineering and international affairs. For my previous students who attended, it was a fantastic experience.

What made Governor's School so great was that it provided an opportunity for students who could not afford the expensive summer programs, many of which cost $3,000.00 or more.

So, naturally, Corzine starts by cutting the program in the arts, in which students could focus on either visual art, writing, dance, music or theater. The remaining schools at present await execution. Corzine stinks.

Way to go Corzine!

The Sequel. Working title: "The Sequel."

2006-03-30T09:04:00.000-08:00

The Sequel remains in limbo, but I'm very pleased with the five pages I'd written in August. I don't have writer's block in the usual way; I can't bring myself to commit to the sequel while The Haven is still homeless. Once it's in the foster care of a good agent, I'll be able to return my attention to writing.

I know my faithful readers will want to know what is in store for Gavin, so instead of sending an email to all five of you, I will post my plans here on the blog.

1. Those who died or were arrested in The Haven will not be in The Sequel.

2. Alastair Johns will play a bigger role in The Sequel.

3. Gavin's group of conspirators will grow.

4. Gavin will venture into previously unmentioned sectors of the Haven.

Well, that's it for now. I still have a lot of plot uncertainties which will most assuredly be worked out during evening walks. (It works every time.)

The Hub of All Poetry

2006-02-15T05:56:00.000-08:00

We are in the midst of a renaissance of poetry, and New Jersey is at its hub. Sadly, few are aware of it.

Maybe its because I'm waxing nostalgic for my adopted state that I had to make the preceding confession. (It's been over fifteen years since I emigrated from my homeland and applied for my first New Jersey drivers license.) Anyway, the land of Ginsberg and William Carlos Williams continues to produce excellent poets. The Geraldine R. Dodge Foundation for Poetry has done much to sustain the culture of poetry in the garden state by providing outlets for academics and students as well as hosting the biennial Dodge festival at Waterloo Village. Moreover, they provide the public with access to the Dodge Poets.

Now let me tell you who you need to read. First, get a hold of one of Betty Lies' anthologies, Cool Women, volume I, III or III. The collections are from the Cool Women group who read their work in the Princeton area, and Betty is cool. Betty rules.

Next is Jack Wiler, author of I Have No Clue. He has placed more recent works, but it's best to hear him live. (addendum: I just saw Jack's website at www.jackwiler.com It's really great, have a look.)

Edwin Romond's last two books are definitely worthwhile: Macaroons and Dream Teaching.

I can go on, but I don't want to overwhelm you. I'll follow up to this post with more poets at a later date. And remember friends, if you can't find it in the bookstore, google it.

James Frey's Next Book

2006-01-30T09:57:00.000-08:00

Seeing as Warner Brothers may not film his screenplay on A Million Little Pieces, he could probably use a little help brainstorming for his next project. My suggestions follow, but please feel free to add your own:

A Million Little Purples: Beginning during his fourteenth year, this memoir documents Frey's struggles as an abused, impoverished and uneducated young black woman.

The Devil Wears Creative License: Fresh out of college, Frey secures the job a million girls would die for: assistant to a high profile editor of a swanky New York fashion magazine. In order to survive in his new post, however, he will have to endure his boss's outrageous demands for latte and credibility.

(and my favorite)
Geronimo's Bones Rolling Over In Their Grave: a memoir of my half-brother twice removed from Scandinavia and Me: As a young boy, Frey and his half-brother twice removed from Scandinavia, Nasdijj, discover the meaning of kinship as they toil in migrant publishing houses and explore the possibility of becoming Navajo.

Well, I like to help out when I can. I may be crazy for giving away primo book ideas like these, but my heart goes out to those who get caught for lying and only make a few hundred grand for it.

In My Webster

2006-01-27T08:41:00.000-08:00

Encarta's word of the day was "jollify." I figured that it had to be a 21st century invention by those too lazy to find the proper word, but the 1986 Webster's in my office stated that not only did jollify mean "to make jolly," but also that "jollification" was a valid term for the state of those made jolly.

I'm nearly as dejected as I was when I learned that "geniculate" was not a verb.
(By the way, it's an adjective, meaning "bent at an angle, like a knee." See "genuflect.")

Anyhow, before I can ascend to a state of jollification this evening, I have to de-stinkify the kitchen and cleanify a load or two of laundry. Oh yes, I also have to nutrify my husband and son so that they can avoid starvification. TGIF baby!

Taking One Out of Rotation

2006-01-05T11:03:00.000-08:00

For the time being, this poem will take a sabbatical from traveling to lit. mag. contests in order to reside on this website.

Narcissus

Limbo has no boundaries,
Which leaves us with no choice
But to run it.
The plain is lit behind us,
As always, brings regret
Of not running faster before.
I, effusive, rash,
Focus on the ground, the sky,
For straight ahead it's dim
And my eyes play tricks on me:
Certain, uncertain.
That's the trick
Of limbo, not seeing the end.
Last time we came here
My dreams knocked
Back and forth,
Like empty shuttles
With no echo.
When I ran through them
They were hard like hail,
And I could not see you.

- C. Bronco

Good Intentions

2005-11-22T10:40:00.000-08:00

"Hell isn't merely paved with good intentions; it's walled and roofed with them..."
- Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have a Stop

It is an underlying theme in The Haven, the outcome of good intentions. One of my students recently brought in an essay, and with reference to Emerson, made the argument that persons should be judged by their intentions, not their actions. Awful sentiment.

My main point is this: good intentions coupled with fear can lead to disasterous errors in judgement. Further, for some the intentions, or the desired ends justify unethical means, which is a recipe for terrorism and tyranny. No one wants to believe that their intentions are bad, particularly if it includes a plan to affect social change. On the other hand, citing good intentions can provide a respectable front for the pursuit of power (e.g. Five Year Plan, Junior Senator Joseph McCarthy etc etc.).

I hate getting abstract like this, which is probably why I wrote a story. What happens in government when the ideal has priority over the people?

Quote of the Month

2005-11-01T07:52:00.000-08:00

My Dad on lowfat ice cream:

"What's the point? There's no flavor and all that's left is cold."

Clearly the man is brilliant.

Evolution of The Haven

2005-10-20T11:24:00.000-07:00

Perhaps it was because I read Orwell, Huxley and Bradbury during my formative years coupled with my chronic phobia of Tipper Gore that I chose the themes of censorship, leadership and societal opression for my book.

Many components came together which set the writing process in motion. First, I had just finished the fifth Harry Potter book. A latecomer to the series, I had read all of the first five books within three months, and was eager for the sixth. As Potter fans know, I was in for a long wait. My son's nap time loomed ahead of me as a time when I would no longer read Harry Potter, and I was faced with the alternative of (gasp) cleaning the house. That could not come to pass.

I decided to write the book that I wanted to read. I decided to write a book that I would enjoy, complete with spectacle, action, humor, the fantastic and the creation of new worlds. I wrote a few pages of notes, and got started on chapter one.

I also have to credit my friend and co-worker, Joyce, with whom I've had some discussion concerning censorship and children. The conversations helped fuel the book.

It was a joy, after thirteen years of focusing solely on poetry, to return to fiction with a project that truly ensnared me. I hadn't thought I had the desire to go back to prose; it was a wonderful surprise.

The Haven - my plug

2005-10-14T11:09:00.000-07:00

"The primes are responsible for the wards of the world. This is a grave and grand responsibility which you will come to appreciate during your time at East 42. Our Code of Sponsorship is "To serve through guidance, to monitor, to improve." You will have it memorized by dinner tomorrow"

Harry Potter meets 1984 in this 71,000 word Young Adult Orwellian Fantasy. At Plebe Orientation, twelve year old Gavin Beckett accepts the Code of Sponsorship as a definition for leadership. His experiences in the vast, underground Haven, however, lead him to combat the ever tightening grip that primes have placed on the ward world above. By the time he completes the school year, the Haven, the world above and the astral plane will never be the same.

All That Slow Fire

2005-10-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

I give the internet a lot of credit, and I am definitely hooked; nearly anything I want to know is available. Back in college I found myself plagued by a few lines that I could not place. I was sure it was by Theodore Roethke, and searched the old fashioned way - sitting on the library floor and flipping through collections of his work. I didn't find it.

After a few years, I imagined that perhaps I was mistaken, had never read said passage, and possibly even made it up myself. Even more time passed, and newly armed with a search engine, I found it: a passage from"The Sequel" in Roethke's "Sequence, Sometimes Metaphysical," the one that begins "Was nature kind? The heart's core tractable?"

Now I have it printed out and tucked under the blotter on my desk. I feel vindicated. I was not delusional all this time. My last statement is open for debate.

Nevertheless, it is my favorite piece out of his collected works. A lot of his poetry is so heavily focused on nature that I don't really appreciate it, yet this piece has such a stronger tie between nature and the individual. I don't mean to discredit his other work; certainly he has much of merit, but here I'm discussiong what pieces I latch onto. "In a Dark Time" likewise pulls together the pastoral and the internal, but this, I think, is on another level. I'd love to print the piece here, but that would probably be infringing on a copyright, so, go out and get the book.

Planet of the Apes

2005-09-21T09:44:00.000-07:00

I finally got around to reading the Time article on "intelligent design." My first reaction was, "I thought we'd settled all of this." Nevertheless, I lied awake for awhile last night thinking about it.

The fear of an idea, when widespread, usually leads to some form of persecution or oppression. On one hand, I can't find fault in George's statement, and on the other, if we mandate a disclaimer on one theory, then we should mandate disclaimers on all theories. But let's go back to hand number one:

Why does anyone have an opinion on this? How is it that we know about the Stokes Monkey Trial, Darwin, Creationism and evolution? Have we, as adults, been privy to some arcane, black market knowledge which is hidden from persons under eighteen who attend public school systems? Is it only a recent discovery that there was, indeed, controversy about The Origin of Species?
Personally, I learned about it in history class in high school, because the controversy has become a part of our nation's history. In the process, I heard both sides of the argument. Afterward, I drew my own conclusion, and siding with Darwin had no relevance to or affect on my faith. Maybe we could trust that if our children were to hear two sides of an argument that they would think for themselves and draw their own conclusions. Maybe there would then be something of mutual interest to discuss at the dinner table.

Webster's New World Dictionary defines faith as "unquestioning belief that does not require proof." Why, then, should learning how things work threaten religion? Christianity didn't diminish when the masses accepted that the sun did not rotate around the Earth. This is no different. I tell you, I like Webster. He always clears things up for me.

At the same time, my initial reaction was the opposite; I believed we were going backwards, retrodding muddied ground. It is inconceivable to me how, in spite of all of the evidence that has accumulated in support of the theory over the years, anyone can raise a doubt. But, perhaps this is an argument that each generation needs to realize in order to appreciate the conclusions.

Let go of the fear, kids. There is a very real and dire reason that we need the first amendment. We have to trust that the American people can hear opposing views and still draw an intelligent conclusion.

(I recommend the original Planet of the Apes, with Charlton Heston, and a bowl of popcorn.)

On style

2005-09-14T11:50:00.000-07:00

I had a recent discussion with a friend about writing style and readability of certain novels. In the course, I noted that I read for content, and not to marvel at the author's artistic abilities. Some stuff I've read and found myself unable to get past page three. "Literary fiction" is not all created equally, and it isn't what I elect to read anyway. In one such book, however, I couldn't even get past the first page; the author's labor to create something artisitic and hip was painfully apparent.

In conclusion, I've come up with this analogy: Mastery of style draws attention to the content and, ironically, away from the language itself. As in clothing, great style means that the other person says, "Hey! You look great!" and not "Wow! Nice Jacket!" In other words it makes you look good as opposed to you providing a showcase for the clothing. I don't mean to say that in writing, a phrase or passage can't be meaningful if it is eloquent. I'll add another metophor to the mix: when well done, we don't notice the mechanics of the language. We enjoy the ride on the vehicle itself.

Modern poets

2005-09-01T07:53:00.000-07:00

I have to start with Raymond Carver, who has had the biggest influence on my poetry. At first it was the plain style, occasional humor and simple eloquence that struck me. It's taken awhile, but I think I've pinned it down - what precisely it is that draws me to his work and why I connect with it: his honest self-assessments and insight.

I'll be honest, the first piece of his which I read was "Your Dog Dies," which I wish I could quote, but I'm afraid to quote anyone as I am new to this media and am not 100% on what is allowed. Anyhow, I found it very funny,and mildly wicked. A better example of the quality listed above would be "Transformation" from A New Path to the Waterfall. (I don't have an underline button.)

Yusef Komunyakaa likewise demonstrates that kind of honesty, perspective and - what I admire greatly in his work -humility. I enjoy all of his work, but most of all his poems about his time in Vietnam. "Facing It," "Water Buffalo," and "You and I Are Disappearing" among others share an understanding of human weaknesses, fear and sadness without aspiring to grandiose statements.

The integrity and understanding of the poets Carver and Komunyakaa are what enable them to affect the reader or audience so profoundly. I believe, here, that you finish and do not gasp "Oh! What a well crafted poem!" or "How ingenious!" Instead you hear the last lines and gasp; you have an epiphany; you've gained something that is relevant to your own life.

verb-o-phile

2005-08-29T12:33:00.000-07:00

"Surgite" is the Latin translation for the command "Rise," which I used as a chapter heading in my book, The Haven. While I'm trying to sell it, starting on the sequel, and occasionally mailing out poems for publication, I thought I'd give blogging a try.

I wish I'd taken Latin. It's cool. Luckily my office is next to the Latin teacher's, and she did a few translations for me.

I like words. I like books that create new worlds, and I like how poetry turns my focus on a small splinter of life. I am the nerd in the front row.