The book, and other misadventures

I haven’t been attending my modest blog. Some of this was due to a much-anticipated hospital “procedure”. It was more embarrassing in the work-up than the actual execution. However, I have way too much past history with doctors and hospitals, and while they have saved my life in the past, I get jumpy just checking in. I had a friend who clocked in for a “routine” procedure; he shot a clot and didn’t check out until they pulled the plug. I’ve signed my organ donor form, but I’d just as soon not have some doctor standing there saying “Oops!” I’ve had a lifetime of misadventure, and should’ve been dead years ago. The longer I live, the more I begin to think that God has some undisclosed purpose for my sorry self. I also played loose and fast with my life in Ye Olde Days. Having been places and done things, I now realize the value of life.

Another reason I haven’t paid proper attention to the blog is my feeble attempt to rewrite my novel. Yes, friends, we all have at least one book in us. I actually thought I might have two or three, kind of on the order of Robert B. Parker’s “Spencer” novels. I have re-written this turkey six times, and it still ain’t right. Men don’t birth babies, but I have an idea what the ex-wife went through delivering our daughters. Books take on a life of their own once you make the leap, and they are harder than the worst homework assignment you ever had in elementary school.

I’ll be glad to hand out samples of this work in progress to anyone who asks or posts a request here. I have most of my Constant Reader’s e-mail addresses. The original manuscript was written in 1986, following my father’s murder. One editor says it sucks, and should never see the light of day. Another says parts of it soar, and the use of the dreaded blue pencil would be superfluous. I’m just trying to tell a story here.

Gimme a buzz if you want a copy of this thing. It won’t be on sale at Wal-Mart in the near future.