Saturday, 14 July 2018

The next one.

Once again, the time is imminent.


After months of interrupted effort, the latest scrawl transmogrifies to the point of publication readiness.  At least, close enough to it by estimation of its author.


A fellow known for being loose with such interpretations, the reader is thus considered forewarned.  While neither requested nor necessary, also provided here is explanation for disavowing earlier claims swearing off publication of future tomes.


Let it not be said a man was unaware of his numerous contradictions.


For like many blessed with an addictive personality, quitting one bad habit often requires collecting a replacement for it.  Whether in the form of continuing education, new employment, treatment programs, recreational activities, or emotional entanglement, the cure most times can prove as dangerous as the illness.


A man hopes most for improvement in selecting these compulsions though neither trial nor error has so far proven foolproof.


History meanwhile, documents the factual basis of the above-stated opinion.  In justification to myself alone however, the facts provide opportunity to continue delivery of unwanted literary effort to an unsuspecting world.


To be succinct, so long as a writer demands no remuneration for his time, the novels break even on their publication expenses.


I will state here for posterity I do not, for either its own sake or as result of acquired habit, like work.  In fact, despite a reputation for doing plenty, that time is better spent avoiding it has been a consistent philosophical position in these parts.


A man however, does need something to do.


That lesson I received as a gift from my father, for whose unvarnished wisdom I remain ever grateful.  As result, the only factually magical experience of which I have been party to, draws remarkably close.


As for this writer, his work alone provides the respite from a host of unrepentant maladies.


I thus remain more grateful for the freedom discovered on the written page than for anything beyond family in this most fortunate of lives.  From the earliest boy’s poems to the many young man’s short stories, through the countless songs of Harwill to these few novels I’ve been fortunate to complete, only writing has ever satisfied an unyielding desire.


Now as ever, I remain as relieved as I am convinced it has been my purpose.


Though perhaps, more grateful now to have received it than in my youth.  For there were long days when such an intensely experienced psychological burden was beyond my capacity to bear.  In those times, my father’s wisdom would help me see what mattered personally, in fact, not philosophy.


For eventually, a man with something to do will find his way.


A man does his best to thank his dad for such gifts, daily if possible, but always when recalling the countless experiences of wonder, grace or brutality this life has so far provided.  As in the writer’s never-ending work is found not only purpose, but freedom ever-lasting.


The big news here is a planned series of novels, with the first of them set for publication on or around the usual date later in the calendar year.  Featuring an unmistakeably western Canadian private investigator named Mac Armstrong, watch the blog this summer for more news about ‘The Recalcitrant P.I.’.


To all who visit here or might read these occasional words, to those who review a novel or offer a word of support, know you, too, are the source of endless gratitude.


Thanks for sharing the blog.


  • TFP
    July 14, 2018


Thursday, 16 November 2017

One Fate Befalls is published!


After much delay, a great day for this writer once again arrives!

I’m pleased to announce independent publication and retail availability of my third novel One Fate Befalls, a tragic romance set in western Canada.  Now available exclusively from Amazon CreateSpace in paperback, author inscribed copies may be ordered by contacting me here at the blog.

See the ‘Mail Order’ page for details.

To purchase a copy direct from Amazon dot com, click the ‘Paperbacks’ link above.

Also available in eBook exclusively for the Kindle reader, click the ‘Kindle eBooks’ page to order.

To read the latest reviews, see the novel’s Goodreads page by clicking on the cover to the right or follow the link below:


I also send my sincerest thanks in advance to anyone kind enough to offer either a review or a rating of the novel.

For those with a taste for them, I’ve included the book’s cover blurb below.

 

'One Fate Befalls’ is a love story about choices.

Kate, a married suburbanite whose doting husband works out of town, owns a lonely home, an infant son and a heart full of secrets. A surprise meeting with Nick, her long lost first love, forces them both to evaluate choice, responsibility, failure and supressed hope.

An exploration of youthful indiscretion and middle-aged impulse, the web of secrets, lies, substance and sexual abuse boldly grips the reader's attention.

Can there be answers to questions best left unasked?

 

As times here lately have been busy, I’ve had little of it left to invest into my burgeoning career as the world’s most unpopular novelist.  Primarily due to a continuing desire to eat despite the ongoing literary failure, most of my efforts these days are devoted to yet another half-baked entrepreneurial pursuit.

While results so far have been everything in and nothing out, a man unwilling to take direction other than his own must endeavor to persevere.

A writer takes what comfort there is knowing much like anything else, it’s most often the stubborn who achieve their goals.

It took a long while to finish writing One Fate Befalls.  After too many years spent on an abundance of iterations, dozens of revisions later the heart of the story is what remains.  At last complete, the writer believes it one worth telling.

I hope you like it.

Thanks for sharing the blog.

 

  • TFP
    November 16, 2017
     

 

 

 

Saturday, 14 October 2017

The gift.


This month’s note emerges from the bottom of what appears to be a deep hole, out of which with diligent shoveling I continue trying to extricate myself.

At this writing, my efforts have resulted in little more than increasing the distance between the top of a deepening cavern and the floor upon which I stand.  No matter the hours invested, only more distance appears between where I am and where I would seek to be in response to what has proven more than less continuous exertion.

Meanwhile, though a man’s fascination with digging seems only to increase, what remains unclear is whether that’s despite or because of the results.

From within such ordinary maelstroms, this writer’s work is completed.

Also, let it not be said a man did not suffer for his art.  Recall instead long years keeping alight a flame known of by few and cared for by less.  Remember too, in such crusades most writers toil, seeking not immortality but release from the relentless grasp of an undying compulsion.

Life after all, remains neither more nor less than what you choose to make it.

This writer has, and ever will a man would suppose, always appreciated that fact most.

As the end draws undeniably nearer, the joy received from what has proven a daily grind advances despite the increasing moan of old age’s infirmity.  While not an unwelcome surprise, with the vigor of youth but receding memory a man is doubtless best-off spending as much time looking ahead as he is back.

Despite knowing what’s left behind most often defines the way forward.

It has been this writer’s intent to describe with his work a continuous discourse upon a singular experience.  Using a variety of forms and media, from poetry and prose to music and acting, from CD and mp3 through assorted journals, ezines, blogs, indie films, the Kindle and at last paperback, documenting everyday happenstance was the first goal.

As result, a fictional account of life among those either less fortunate or not famous might in time be constructed.

The record of an enrichment otherwise unknown, by his own hand and those of his fellows, could thus also be documented.  As factually as fiction allowed, under the fiercest of editorial restrictions should the writer produce his record.  By careful alteration and inconsistent addition, using incoherent sequencing and unreliable subtraction, the routine and unbelievable circumstance of experience would be reconstructed into a series of near recognizable literary landscapes.

From building blocks of existential philosophy and metaphor, with equal parts sarcasm and symbolism, tales of heartrending adventure, bold farce and tragic romance are told, each within the framework of fictional memoir.  Found there, is entertainment, distraction, perhaps an insight or two, and with luck, a brief respite from the temporal confines in which all of us here are ever trapped.

No more, and nothing less.

As mentioned on near countless occasions, the contents of these notes much like the writer’s works are intended to momentarily distract.  Neither this man nor the writer have interest in leveraging either the work or the site as a platform from which to espouse personal political opinions.

For to this belief the writer holds: the greatest gift an artist can give is that of entertainment.

That does not mean a man is either unaware or ignorant to the societal divisions now running amok around the world and here at home.  For the first time since the turbulent nineteen sixties of my early childhood, the evil forces of racism and bigotry take to the streets, publicly inciting the always simmering fuse of privately repressed intolerance, ignorance and hate.  From the despicable rhetoric spewing from the highest political office of our closest geographic neighbor to the deplorable anti-Semitic rants of regional right-wing municipal politicians, current public discourse demonstrates both populist bigotry and systemic racism at levels unseen since World War II.

As a less-visible member of a historically repressed minority group in my own country, a man is disappointed by the situation to say the least, and concerned for the future of progressive society if pushed to say more.

To those interested in such matters meanwhile, it’s unmistakeably clear that left-leaning and progressive ideology govern in these parts.  If these facts arrive as news to you after reading or hearing any of my work, you must at once consider occupying yourself with less challenging intellectual pursuits.  For in the writer’s opinion, it could scarce be more obvious.

Despite and whatever our differences might be however, a shared commitment to live and let live is what allows our democracy to work.

Besides, that’s not the point of either this site or its contents.

The site is devoted to literary entertainment and the pursuit of insight about the human condition.  If you’re in search of an argument, look elsewhere.  As not only in fact but also by intent, a man has neither time nor patience for the vast ignorance driving much of the vicious anger now threatening the peace and freedom of our democracy.

Even less when confronted by endless work and ever-lessening time in which to complete it.

For to this man at least, the attempt is everything.  Around here, honor is believed located in commitment to a task considered ethically just, not its completion.  As such and in most cases, neither success nor failure can be properly apportioned by reviewing apparent results.

Thus, in every writer’s work is found a secret.

It has of course, been left for the reader to decipher with but a simple caution: nothing is as it seems, and you must look inside to discover each person’s story.

On that note, we turn to the all-important local literary news.

With the calendar showing no sign of slowing down, the struggle to complete proof reading the manuscript of third novel ‘One Fate Befalls’ while awaiting a formatting date continues.  With any luck, the novel arrives before the holidays and the fast approaching end of another year.

Watch the site for news.

Thanks for sharing the blog.

  • TFP
    October 14, 2017

 


Wednesday, 23 August 2017

Of consequences, intended or otherwise.


The latest end to another extended break from a life-long practice is commemorated with this month’s post.

That along with a brief nod to current events must suffice.  For ongoing efforts to keep an old man’s nose above the water line continue to receive the lion’s share of available time in these parts, leaving few moments spared for the largely unpaid labor of constructing prose intended for something other than mass consumption.

It would be a mistake to consider the observation a complaint, for this writer appreciates wielding the pen no matter in which direction working with it might lead.  After all, the fictions a man creates might also lend themselves to applications altogether different than either imagination or intention could supply if their author will allow it.

For a timely example of the unexpected value occasionally created by consequences unexplainable before the fact ~ low hanging fruit admittedly ~ one must only look south to find one of the plainest demonstration witnessed in this writer’s lifetime.  There but miles across an undefended border, our neighbors must these days live with values created by their unexpected choice as president, in many cases only now realizing the unexplainable consequences forced upon them as result of it.  In time, and a good neighbor hopes not long, their response to the circumstance is sure to reshape and renew their commitment to the grand experiment of democracy.

With any luck, a restoration of sanity will shortly follow.

In these parts meanwhile, we must now deal with consequences created by the so-called ‘leader of the free world’ providing thinly-veiled encouragement to white supremacists.  From coast-to-coast in Canada newly emboldened bigots, reinforced by a racist underground daring to show its carefully hidden face to a more than less shocked nation, emerge.  In Canadian cities large and small, populated by speakers of English or French, demonstrations by extreme-right activists including white supremacists, racists and bigots of all styles lately seek the legitimacy of public spaces and police protection.

Canada’s response to these despicable fringe elements must leave no doubt there is no longer any place for such disgusting ideas in our democracy.

As in all cases however, only time will tell.

To leave the dreariness of current events for the joy of personal literary interests, only a final proof read remains for what is scheduled as novel number three of my own to publish.  I hope to share the at-last finished work later this fall, all things willing and the creek don’t rise, and will announce the arrival date for ‘One Fate Befalls’ here on the blog.

Despite an unexpected interruption created by the necessary pursuit of commerce, my belief is the unexplained value created by a shortage of time helped the finished work.  As a writer known most ~ if at all ~ for incessant rewriting with little interest in the calendar, a manuscript rewritten more than twenty times at the cost of over a million words will finally reach the printed page at somewhere north of sixty thousand.

I leave the decision regarding its fate to its readers.

As far as its writer is concerned, this one is it.  If it should turn out that ‘One Fate Befalls’ receives a market response more than less similar to its predecessors, a man’s career as independent publisher shall reach an end.  For despite the presence of a completed fourth manuscript there lives here no taste for vanity projects, leaving bottom-line concerns the factual arbiter of this writer’s fate as publishing novelist.

Like many nowadays, I love writing novels.  In this writer’s case, it’s a time-consuming habit difficult to interrupt once begun and a real danger to most other pursuits.  The obsessive among us perhaps best understand the stubborn compulsion to complete a task once begun, while those fortunate to suffer a love affair with the unsightly prose habit know well the circumstance of which I speak.

Such energy is also a gift a man can harness for any variety of purpose, including those commercial pursuits encouraged by our society.  The reader might thus rest, assured the writer’s fate is both less and more a function of consequence, not intent.

As ever, a man is best served remembering that while many are called, few are chosen.

Thanks for sharing the blog.

  • TFP
    August 23, 2017