Recovering from the Aubert Workshop at Loyalist. A productive & relaxing 5 days almost away from distractions – no TV – though I did watch an episode of the Almighty Jonsons on line. The morning sessions were thought provoking: to prologue or not; to self-publish or not; pros & cons of ePub & eBooks. For some reason I was asked to give a presentation on ePub – most of my knowledge is based on a Bloody Words workshop & various podcasts.
The afternoon workshops were good – lots of strong material was presented – often problems were with clarity & continuity as opposed to story telling. Pieces ranged from thrill-a-minute car chases, to amusing police encounters, to Hemingway in Toronto, to life with an mentally challenged child. I think the only piece that garnered much negative comment was mine, the excerpt from The Lazarus Kiss (my Nano novel): too much swearing, violence that made some of readers want to look away (I count that as a success, mind you).
Got off campus on Thursday night with some of my classmates for a dinner at the Waring House. Drove through a wild rain storm to get there. Arrived at 6 – didn’t get served till 7 – the food was fine but the service left a lot to be desired. Leaks in the roof over our table and the window beside it were distracting. Good conversation made the wait bearable (but not acceptable). Joining us was Vicki Delany – a well established a mystery writer whom I pumped for her eBook experiences – getting her back list in e format has increased sales considerably.
Speaking of backlists, Amazon has recently bought the Avalon line to reissue as eBooks resulting in unexpected royalty checks for authors in that back catalogue including or inspired leader Rosemary Aubert.
The drive back to Toronto Friday was trouble free – enough cloud cover so there was no setting sun to deal with. Unpacked & sorted laundry – the domestic backbone of creativity. I’ll go over the notes on my piece in a couple of weeks, maybe. I have my Plasticine set to prepare, and one for the Damned in October, then NaNo in November – so maybe by the new year I’ll have time. Plus I’m keen to get at my coal mine romance after three years of research.
here’s an oldish piece:
My Drug Of Choice
scotch grass cocaine
sex video games
been there done that
through it all
self-pity was my drug of choice
first time every time
<>
before I picked up a substance
I indulged in self-pity
wallowed in it
justified everything with it
‘woe is me
why was I born
what am I living for
no one loves me
that guy didn’t want to see me again
I’m not paid what I worth
you didn’t return my call
<>
being told to get to get off the pity pot
get off the cross we need the wood
proved not that you care
but that you didn’t really care
no one understands
and when they understood
they didn’t show enough sympathy
enough compassion
they were stuck on their own pity pots
reaching for substances
to make the pity less stifling
<>
all the substances I tried
never satisfied
the way my drug of choice self-pity did
they numbed me to it for a moment or two
made me not care about myself
woe is me I don’t even love me
what’s the point of it all
why go on living
when even the escape
made me long for the cage
feeling nothing locked me back into
my drug of choice self-pity
<>
I can’t do that
my writing is crappy
no one buys my chap books
no one wants to sleep with me
not even myself
who’d want to have sex
with a self-pity junkie
unless it was to divert themselves
from their own self-pity
for a few pathetic moments
of orgasmic relief
that has to be cleaned up
<>
I hope I don’t get some disease
I hope they call me tomorrow
or next week
or soon
I’ll have no choice but
to pick up my drug of choice.
TOpoet 
boo-hoo and yah hoo