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Nightrider's Lament

"Why do they [write] for their money? Why do they [work] for short pay? They ain't getting nowhere and they're losing their share. They must have gone crazy back there." — Michael Burton (paraphrased)

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Tag: writing

A Readers’ Guide to What and How I Write

On April 7, 2016April 20, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn WritingLeave a comment

If you have read any of my previous novels, you probably know how I write. I try to be realistic. I create characters, and they don't ring true in my mind if they don't talk and act as I imagine them doing. I don't much care about writing about the exalted classes, having never spent …

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Stuck in a Rut, but with a Plan Now

On April 5, 2016April 5, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn FictionLeave a comment

Some of my songs have gotten longer. I've got some big news. A volume of short stories, Longer Songs, will soon be available. In fact, apparently it's available now, through the CreateSpace store, as a Kindle book. The print version will be available on Amazon and, perhaps in a bookstore here and there, soon. Writing …

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The Drudgery and the Damage Done

On April 2, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn BooksLeave a comment

Drudgery. I'm fighting it. I'm writing this blog to relieve drudgery. When I finish it, I shall return, like unto MacArthur to the Philippines. On Friday, I was at home all day and most of the time right here, sitting behind my rolling desk. At long last and overdue, I am producing a print version …

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Still Irreverent, Even on Easter

On March 27, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn Religion1 Comment

  It is a good day to face reality, Easter. The celebration of Christ's Resurrection has coincidentally, over time, tied itself to the vow of poverty otherwise known as tax time. It's not actually until April 15, but it behooves one to approach that date with caution, lest one leave oneself insufficient time to prepare …

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Inside the Park

On March 22, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn FictionLeave a comment

  It was the bottom of the sixth inning on a Tuesday afternoon, and Johnny Shelburn stepped to the plate with the bases empty and two men out. Sacks, his teammates called him. He played first base. He took a strike. A little high for his taste. The Larranega Heights pitcher was a lefty. He …

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Please Buy My Novels Out of Thin Air

On March 17, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn Books3 Comments

My new novel, Forgive Us Our Trespasses, goes on sale at Amazon.com on March 29. To my friends who cling to their tightly packed paper, I apologize because the new novel, like the last one, will be unavailable in print, at least for now. I'd like to sell paper novels. I own the rights to …

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No Ordinary Indiscretion

On March 8, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn BooksLeave a comment

  In the past year, I've read a lot of chases. Hapless victims of fate, running for their lives. A young man trying come to grips with a mother both dead and outlandish. The Southwest. The Mid-Atlantic. Florida. Polly Iyer's Indiscretion begins on the coast of South Carolina and changes venues to Boston, where it …

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High Above the World Where No One Cares

On March 3, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn FictionLeave a comment

  Marvin staggered out of bed, stopped off for a leak, and advanced boldly into the kitchen in search of a swallow of water to combat the cotton mouth. Gaining coherence and mental acuity, he applied the fundamentals of coffee making to his machine and retreated because nature was beginning to call, and, sometimes, in …

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Moping About the Madness

On March 1, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn LifeLeave a comment

This morning I'm feeling paralyzed. I need to write about cowboys in 1946, and my mind is stuck in the present. I've tried sticking planks under the tires. I've jammed the gears. Nothing. So I decided to ruminate here. I'm thinking. I'm thinking. Here's the transition I've been making, and it may be unduly influenced …

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Tuesday Morning Consciousness Stream

On February 9, 2016 By wastedpilgrimIn LifeLeave a comment

  I've had much to think of, and yet I've learned gradually that I'm living in a world that seldom thinks. It tweets. It texts. It posts. It links. It sinks. But it seldom thinks. It's turnt af. Nowumsayin? Saturday was unexpected. I was pecking away at something at least as nonsensical as this when …

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