Novelist. Editor. Journalist. Business Writer.
You wouldn’t walk up to a complete stranger and ask them for a Chicken McNugget. You likely wouldn’t walk up to a coworker and say give me a dollar.
But how many of you feel almost no compunction about walking up to friends and strangers alike and letting the following words slip out of your mouth: “Can I bum a cigarette?”
Shame on you.
With the publication of my second novel, Bacon and Egg Man (Nook), a number of people have reached out to me expressing admiration and mild jealousy. Some of them I knew were writers. Others were a surprise. Still others were completely imaginary and I’m using their imaginary questions as inspiration for a blog post. But the message tended to be the same. HOW do you do it? You must be so disciplined. You have a non-academic, year-around day job and still find time.
While I like a good ego stroking, I always feel a little guilty about this. Because in my head, I’m a lazy, unproductive turd of a writer. I read about these lawyers who had full-time caseloads AND a full-time family AND they wrote from Junior’s bedtime until 3 in the morning, then woke up, went to the gym and then went to work. Or even those full-time writers who lock themselves in a basement all day, coming up only for coffee and cigarettes.
Deep down inside, I feel like I should be on my seventh or eighth novel by now. I’m turning 40 this year and I have two published novels, one unpublished one and one in progress. I beat myself up about this constantly. Which just goes to show! (That I just can’t be satisfied with what I have.)
But how DO you write a novel? Here are some simple steps.
Continue reading “How to Write a Novel”
How should you read my new novel, Bacon and Egg Man? Obviously, with a work of art this layered and so thematically complicated, one must approach it carefully. After all, what do we mean when we say “bacon”?
Mmmmmmmm, bacon.
Where was I? Oh, how should you read my book?
With your eyes!
(Buy the book at Amazon or Barnes & Noble.)
But seriously, some folks seem to get a little confused or ashamed or something when it comes to ebook vs. paper books. In general, I don’t care how you read the book as long as you read the damn thing. Specifically, in the case of Bacon and Egg Man, it’s actually in my financial interest if you read the ebook. Put simply, I get a bigger cut of the price off of ebook sales. And the money shows up faster, too. Instead of waiting over a year to get a convoluted royalty statement that requires deciphering by a high priest, ebook sales will be reported on a monthly basis.
That’s right. If you pay for an ebook, I can convert your money into bourbon before Easter!
Continue reading “Bacon and Egg Man: Paper or Plastic?”
So much for all that. I’m sitting up here by the Jesus billboard in downtown Estes Park, trying to keep the Rocky Mountain winds from ripping through my ghostly guts. I just lost my job haunting The Stanley Hotel.
I don’t know what came over me. It’s a plush gig. That’s not to say anyone can do it. Lot of ghosts show up here looking for work, but a lot of ghosts are just regular people. The surfer bro who still thinks knock-knock jokes are funny. The accountant with the braying laugh. The woman who wants to pet every dog that comes around. Those things aren’t scary. They’re just annoying. And no one likes an annoying ghost.
Continue reading “A Ghost Story: The Stanley Hotel”
Perhaps re-reading The Shining a week before staying at The Stanley Hotel is not the wisest thing to do. I’m only 90 pages in and I’m already having aural and visual hallucinations in my apartment. I can’t imagine what will happen in the place that inspired Stephen King to write the novel–a place that delights in selling ghost tours and K-meters and Redrum mugs.
I’ve always been a complete chickenshit. My brother — my younger brother — can attest to me sleeping with covers over my head and often asking if I could climb into bed with him, after stupidly reading something about Bigfoot (the mean version) or Satanic possession and/or surviving a conversation with Pentecostal cousins who insisted all my TV and rock music was a one-way ticket to hell.
At least I don’t sleep with my head covered anymore. Not very often at any rate. Okay, not when it’s really hot and Cara’s here to protect me.
One a.m. in Park Slope. We’re dead to the world sleeping. Well, I am. And Cara is likely thinking of beating me with a shoe due to snoring. Then….
KABLAMMO!!!!
Something explodes. And a smoke alarm starts going off. Somewhere. Trying not to have a heart attack and wishing I hadn’t spent the afternoon at a friend’s eating red beans and rice and drinking bourbon, I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and flip flops.
I ran into the backyard. Looked up, down and all around. Nothing. Just the infernal beeping of that smoke detector (which actually gives the smaller of the dogs fits). Went through the apartment out onto the street. Looked up, down and all around. Nothing. Just that infernal beep…
Well, the smoke detector stopped before I could even figure out where it came from. Sound travels funny in our neighborhood. It sounded as loud in the front as it had in the back. It could have been coming from our building or three buildings over.
I walked up the stairs in our apartment building. Listening at each door. Seemed no one was awake. No lights on. No smoke. No funny smells. Went back down and listened to the basement door as if it would tell me something. No sounds from down there. The door wasn’t hot. No smoke. Walked back outside again. Back yard. Nothing. Front. Nothing.
No one yelling anywhere. No sirens. No nothing. I swear if Cara hadn’t heard it too I’d be questioning the whole thing today, wondering if I’d dreamed it all.
Biscuits, boudin, bacon, cane syrup? Sure, why not. The Sweet Baby Breesus is one of the signature items of The French Press in Lafayette, Louisiana. And if you’re anywhere near there, go grab some brunch. Certainly a lot easier than doing this at home. Hell, if you don’t live in Louisiana, getting the right kind of boudin is damn near impossible. You might even have trouble finding the cane syrup.
Cara wanted this, so I figured I’d give it a whirl. Especially after our friend Sara made it for her while she was home. Sara’s undoubtedly turned out better, but mine still came out okay.
What do you need to do?
Pillsbury biscuits. Bake ’em
Some bacon. I’d cook that in the oven, just to save yourself some trouble.
Boudin. Squeeze it out of its casing. Make little biscuit-size patties. Firm ’em up. Sprinkle a little flour on ’em. Fry the patties in oil until crisp and brown.
Then make yourself a little sandwich. Use the cane syrup as a condiment. Eat.
Oh. Hi. Happy New Year. Fancy seeing you here. There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you. Look at this. It’s a cover for a novel.
Bacon and Egg Man. It’s being released next month by the good folks at Premier Digital Publishing (more on them later). As you can see, my name is scribbled across the top of this cover. That’s because I wrote it. Yay for me, etc.
Let me tell you about this cover.
Continue reading “Bacon and Egg Man — The Cover”
Recently, I spent a couple hours at the local cineplex taking in The Silver Linings Playbook. The movie, starring Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence and Bobby Deniro, was written and directed by David O. Russell. It was also based on the novel The Silver Linings Playbook, written by Matthew Quick.
I’m a fan of Quick’s and was a huge fan of this book, when a few years ago my old blogging buddy Angela suggested I send the manuscript for The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival to him. Full disclosure, a brief bromance blossomed. We even had drinks in Philly once.
All of which is to say that I went into this movie feeling, perhaps, protective. Now, I wasn’t like a teenage Harry Potter fan, ready to cast death spells (or whatever) if the movie wasn’t up to snuff. But I had concerns.
Continue reading “The Silver Linings Play, er, Movie”
KEN WHEATON 