Finally someone has recognized my brilliance publicly (Cara Preston too). A romance website reviewed “Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” written by Cara Preston and me. The reviewer gave it four hearts. I am told that it is a reputable site and four hearts is indeed an accomplishment. She wrote, “This reviewer would definitely recommend this for a very quick yet satisfying read with humor, wit and romance!”
I’m thrilled. The review can be found at http://www.loveromancesandmore.com/reviews/0208/pickuplines_mandie.htm
In other news, a cover is forthcoming for “A Slice of Life,” my second release with Red Rose Publishing. I’ve spoken to the cover artist with a few ideas and she is working on it now. Hopefully I’ll have something back in a week or so and then it will get in the queue to be published.
All for now.
Spike
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Rat Reflections
I flew to Florida on Saturday and boy, are my arms tired. Actually, I am tired. We rocked at the Tragic Kingdom on Sunday and Hollywood Studios on Monday during the day, then went back to Tragic Kingdom in the afternoon. We killed my kids, they were totally worn out. It has been an adventure.
Saturday morning we took a cab to the airport. The driver was suffering from the DT’s and kept having seizures that affected gas and brake and I think he was suffering from the cold as he cranked hot air for the trip while rambling on about his experiences as a PGA caddie. I guess all the jerking and hot air got to my 20 month old because as we pulled up to the airport, my son did a great Linda Blair impersonation and vomited in a projectile manner - sour milk and Mandarin oranges all over himself, his clothes, car seat and cab.
Picture this: Mom changing a 20 month old on the curb in front of SkyCap counter in 20 degress, he’s shivering with blue lips, there’s three large bags, two car seats, two strollers and a diaper bag strewn on the curb and dad trying to check in. I use diaper wipes as best I can to clean the car seat, bag and check it. We head for the gate. I notice we are not seated together, so I head for the gate agent, who is busy seating his boyfriend. I am standing at the counter with my rank smelling son while my wife takes my daughter to the bathroom. He ignores me and leaves. He comes back and without acknowledging me, gets on the phone, then the radio, then leaves again. When he returns on other business, I ask him if he is going to help me. He tells me to wait, in spite of the fact that I have been waiting for 20 minutes.
I explain that we are two adults traveling with two young children, one ticketed, one not, and that it would be best if we were seated together. He informs me that the flight is oversold and there are no available seats. I asked if the flight was oversold six months ago when I bought the tickets and he asked if we reserved seats together. I said I thought we did and he told me that they charge extra for that.
Are you kidding me? Charge extra to sit together? Welcome to AirTran Airlines.
We get to Orlando, get our luggage and realize, based on the stench, that we will not be able to ever use that car seat again - trash it and rent one with our car for $80 for the week, almost twice the price of a booster seat, but, what are we going to do.
Check in, all is cool, then a day at the park - my son has diarrhea, a lot of it, it spills out of his diaper and on me as he is sitting on me. Are you kidding me? I just spent almost $300 to get us into the park and now I have to take a bus back to the hotel while schlepping a stroller and my kid because we reek.
So:
Vomit - Free
Three nights at Disney - $650
Park Admission - $225
Two Tacos - $9.95
Souvenirs - $100
Ice cold beer - Priceless
Now I am in New Smyrna hanging with friends. I might play golf tomorrow, pretty sure we haven’t filed bankruptcy yet. The weather is here, I wish I was beautiful.
Saturday morning we took a cab to the airport. The driver was suffering from the DT’s and kept having seizures that affected gas and brake and I think he was suffering from the cold as he cranked hot air for the trip while rambling on about his experiences as a PGA caddie. I guess all the jerking and hot air got to my 20 month old because as we pulled up to the airport, my son did a great Linda Blair impersonation and vomited in a projectile manner - sour milk and Mandarin oranges all over himself, his clothes, car seat and cab.
Picture this: Mom changing a 20 month old on the curb in front of SkyCap counter in 20 degress, he’s shivering with blue lips, there’s three large bags, two car seats, two strollers and a diaper bag strewn on the curb and dad trying to check in. I use diaper wipes as best I can to clean the car seat, bag and check it. We head for the gate. I notice we are not seated together, so I head for the gate agent, who is busy seating his boyfriend. I am standing at the counter with my rank smelling son while my wife takes my daughter to the bathroom. He ignores me and leaves. He comes back and without acknowledging me, gets on the phone, then the radio, then leaves again. When he returns on other business, I ask him if he is going to help me. He tells me to wait, in spite of the fact that I have been waiting for 20 minutes.
I explain that we are two adults traveling with two young children, one ticketed, one not, and that it would be best if we were seated together. He informs me that the flight is oversold and there are no available seats. I asked if the flight was oversold six months ago when I bought the tickets and he asked if we reserved seats together. I said I thought we did and he told me that they charge extra for that.
Are you kidding me? Charge extra to sit together? Welcome to AirTran Airlines.
We get to Orlando, get our luggage and realize, based on the stench, that we will not be able to ever use that car seat again - trash it and rent one with our car for $80 for the week, almost twice the price of a booster seat, but, what are we going to do.
Check in, all is cool, then a day at the park - my son has diarrhea, a lot of it, it spills out of his diaper and on me as he is sitting on me. Are you kidding me? I just spent almost $300 to get us into the park and now I have to take a bus back to the hotel while schlepping a stroller and my kid because we reek.
So:
Vomit - Free
Three nights at Disney - $650
Park Admission - $225
Two Tacos - $9.95
Souvenirs - $100
Ice cold beer - Priceless
Now I am in New Smyrna hanging with friends. I might play golf tomorrow, pretty sure we haven’t filed bankruptcy yet. The weather is here, I wish I was beautiful.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Now What?
Now What?
It’s an interesting question that needs to be addressed on several fronts for me, “Now What?”
Yes..now what?
Book two is forthcoming, I know I have been saying that for months and both of you are anxiously waiting, but really, now what? My writing career isn’t exactly rocketing into the stratosphere, so now what.
Well, I really expected both of you to tell two friends, who would tell two friends, who would tell two friends, but, it didn’t happen, so you let me down.
Truthfully, I never expected any of that to happen. I expected to sell five copies and to blog to make myself happy and that is what has happened. Some people read it, some comment, some buy my book. It is what it is.
So I continue to teach, I continue to not write, because after all, what does a writer do but rebel and not write, and I continue to believe that I can write, although I never write. I think about writing all the time, but, I never write. I think that makes me a writer, no?
So, if you are a fan of me not writing, let me know. If you are a fan of me writing, tell me to write so that I feel good about not writing. I will continue to not write so that I can make my fans of my not writing happy, because after all, it is all about not writing, right?
Spike
It’s an interesting question that needs to be addressed on several fronts for me, “Now What?”
Yes..now what?
Book two is forthcoming, I know I have been saying that for months and both of you are anxiously waiting, but really, now what? My writing career isn’t exactly rocketing into the stratosphere, so now what.
Well, I really expected both of you to tell two friends, who would tell two friends, who would tell two friends, but, it didn’t happen, so you let me down.
Truthfully, I never expected any of that to happen. I expected to sell five copies and to blog to make myself happy and that is what has happened. Some people read it, some comment, some buy my book. It is what it is.
So I continue to teach, I continue to not write, because after all, what does a writer do but rebel and not write, and I continue to believe that I can write, although I never write. I think about writing all the time, but, I never write. I think that makes me a writer, no?
So, if you are a fan of me not writing, let me know. If you are a fan of me writing, tell me to write so that I feel good about not writing. I will continue to not write so that I can make my fans of my not writing happy, because after all, it is all about not writing, right?
Spike
Sunday, February 3, 2008
I am a Bad Man/Writer
I have ignored any opportunity to promote my writing, and there are many. There are loops and talks and other options, and I have ignored them. I have ignored them not because I am evil, but because I have other issues.
So...so...does that make me bad? I think not. I would love to connect, to have contact, but, hitting the loop, checking the loop, it is all too much for me with a day job and two kids, so, my sales suffer.
But...but, it is more important to me to hang with my kids than to sell books. I guess I screwed up when I thought I could just write and readers would come – shame on me.
So, my apologies for not supporting my books.
Spike
So...so...does that make me bad? I think not. I would love to connect, to have contact, but, hitting the loop, checking the loop, it is all too much for me with a day job and two kids, so, my sales suffer.
But...but, it is more important to me to hang with my kids than to sell books. I guess I screwed up when I thought I could just write and readers would come – shame on me.
So, my apologies for not supporting my books.
Spike
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Nothing Written, Nothing Gained
Truer words were never spoken. So, what have I been doing with my own bad self? Not much. I have been focused on planning for my classes and deciding what to do with my life – after all, there is nothing like a shiftless middle aged English Teacher to repulse and repel fans, right?
My friend has been acting, see www.Tonkin.com to watch his commercial – he’s the dude with the loose tie. Just scroll down until his mug appears and then click on it. We went to college together.
You can also see him at www.youtube.com, type in No Red Ribbons.
My new one is coming out, but I have lost the love. I think it will be out at www.RedRosePublishing.com on February 27th, but I am not sure. I like this book, but promoting books is like ...is like...is like...insert simile here. It’s a Roman adventure, sometimes you lose and need to die like a Roman.
Other times, you win. When you win, you get to die like Caesar. Great choices, huh?
I heard a report today that claimed depression is at it’s most dire when men hit 44. Life satisfaction can be charted as a U. Youth rates high satisfaction, as does old age, but at the bottom of the U, the depth of depression, it bottoms out at 44.
Nice to know. Now what?
So, I am melancholy at best. Cheer me up. SpikeFremont@aol.com
My friend has been acting, see www.Tonkin.com to watch his commercial – he’s the dude with the loose tie. Just scroll down until his mug appears and then click on it. We went to college together.
You can also see him at www.youtube.com, type in No Red Ribbons.
My new one is coming out, but I have lost the love. I think it will be out at www.RedRosePublishing.com on February 27th, but I am not sure. I like this book, but promoting books is like ...is like...is like...insert simile here. It’s a Roman adventure, sometimes you lose and need to die like a Roman.
Other times, you win. When you win, you get to die like Caesar. Great choices, huh?
I heard a report today that claimed depression is at it’s most dire when men hit 44. Life satisfaction can be charted as a U. Youth rates high satisfaction, as does old age, but at the bottom of the U, the depth of depression, it bottoms out at 44.
Nice to know. Now what?
So, I am melancholy at best. Cheer me up. SpikeFremont@aol.com
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Holiday Hangover
I have been subjected to a nasty hangover of holiday spirit and a more malicious malady; a not so infectious disease, known to afflict part time writers in particular; lack of commitment. I prefer to think of it as other responsibilities, but the truth is that it is a failure on the sufferer’s part to make time to write – anything – blogs, journal entries, notes, letters, e-mails; the affliction isn’t very discriminatory and exercises a scorched earth policy when it is allowed to fester, as mine has.
The afflicted is naturally more critical of the lack of performance – writers tend to be more introspective than others, and therefore hypercritical, especially when applying criticism reflexively. It doesn’t help to go on a voyeuristic literary binge, that is, a reading jag, like I have. I’ve been motivated by others, by vocation, and by a selfish desire precipitated by excessive idle time, also known as the devil’s tools.
With all of the aforementioned conspiring to create the perfect storm, I took a break and read. What did I read? Well, I’ll tell you. It started with Almost Moon by Alice Sebold, then it was Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, Out of Sight by Elmore Leonard, Atonement by Ian McEwan, a rare foray into nonfiction with The School of Great Expectations by Dan Brown, no, not that Dan Brown, and culminating with my current crutch, Julius Winsome by Gerard Donovan, given to me by a friend who might become a former friend based on the path of the novel – I like it, but it is twisted. So, that is how I spent the last two weeks.
The result is a conflicted writer not willing to call himself a writer based on the overwhelming talent he has recently exposed himself to. I live to write about myself in the third person, I sound so...stoopid.
“Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” is doing well, it was on the Bestseller list for RedRosePublishing.com in November and is still available. “A Slice of Life” is coming soon, but no firm release date yet – there may be some issues with cover art, but the editing is done. And I continue on my merry way, reading and not writing. I think I may need to change that.
Do you agree?
The afflicted is naturally more critical of the lack of performance – writers tend to be more introspective than others, and therefore hypercritical, especially when applying criticism reflexively. It doesn’t help to go on a voyeuristic literary binge, that is, a reading jag, like I have. I’ve been motivated by others, by vocation, and by a selfish desire precipitated by excessive idle time, also known as the devil’s tools.
With all of the aforementioned conspiring to create the perfect storm, I took a break and read. What did I read? Well, I’ll tell you. It started with Almost Moon by Alice Sebold, then it was Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, Out of Sight by Elmore Leonard, Atonement by Ian McEwan, a rare foray into nonfiction with The School of Great Expectations by Dan Brown, no, not that Dan Brown, and culminating with my current crutch, Julius Winsome by Gerard Donovan, given to me by a friend who might become a former friend based on the path of the novel – I like it, but it is twisted. So, that is how I spent the last two weeks.
The result is a conflicted writer not willing to call himself a writer based on the overwhelming talent he has recently exposed himself to. I live to write about myself in the third person, I sound so...stoopid.
“Pickup Lines From a Pickup Truck” is doing well, it was on the Bestseller list for RedRosePublishing.com in November and is still available. “A Slice of Life” is coming soon, but no firm release date yet – there may be some issues with cover art, but the editing is done. And I continue on my merry way, reading and not writing. I think I may need to change that.
Do you agree?
Monday, December 17, 2007
Dilettante or Thug?
Webster defines the first as a “dabbler in the arts,” the second as “a gangster or tough.” Is it possible for both to describe the same person? Am I or am I? I have always struggled with the contradictions in my nature, the seeming walking contradiction of my personality, partly truth and partly fiction.
As previously written, I relish physical contact, in many ways, and do not shy away from physical confrontation. I also love musical theater, my favorite being “Les Miserables,” mainly because I saw it from a seat in “the stalls” in the West End of London with my brother. I wore cleats to play baseball and football in high school, but I also wore loafers to see “The King and I” at the Memorial Auditorium. Why is there this dichotomy in my personality and where did it come from?
Conflict is a key ingredient in any narrative; it makes the story interesting, contributing to tension that ultimately results in climax. Internal conflict is something we live with everyday. As a writer, my inner conflict is whether to write what I want or what sells. Lately I have been writing romance; because it is fun, because I am able to get published and because I learn from it. Anyone who has read my dreck knows it is tame, but, I am tempted to write more graphically.
I guess, while sitting here pondering my writer’s navel, my concern is whether I should be more graphic in my efforts at romance. Should I maintain my dilettante’s detachment or embrace my inner thug and write graphically? Hmmm, what do you think? Either of you, feel free to answer.
Spike
As previously written, I relish physical contact, in many ways, and do not shy away from physical confrontation. I also love musical theater, my favorite being “Les Miserables,” mainly because I saw it from a seat in “the stalls” in the West End of London with my brother. I wore cleats to play baseball and football in high school, but I also wore loafers to see “The King and I” at the Memorial Auditorium. Why is there this dichotomy in my personality and where did it come from?
Conflict is a key ingredient in any narrative; it makes the story interesting, contributing to tension that ultimately results in climax. Internal conflict is something we live with everyday. As a writer, my inner conflict is whether to write what I want or what sells. Lately I have been writing romance; because it is fun, because I am able to get published and because I learn from it. Anyone who has read my dreck knows it is tame, but, I am tempted to write more graphically.
I guess, while sitting here pondering my writer’s navel, my concern is whether I should be more graphic in my efforts at romance. Should I maintain my dilettante’s detachment or embrace my inner thug and write graphically? Hmmm, what do you think? Either of you, feel free to answer.
Spike
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