More Sugarman

A little more on Sixto Rodriguez. I was fortunate enough to see him (front row, center) about five years ago with one of my oldest friends.  It was a fantastic experience. The positivity that emanated from him was contagious. Many of his songs are not exactly shiny/happy songs, but he delivered them with joy. He was a man, who truly loved his art and performing for his listeners.

I often think about that…love my art and sharing with readers.  That is what it’s all about.  The purpose = entertain myself and (hopefully) others.

— TD



Searching for… Discouragement

I’ve seen a lot and heard a lot about artists getting discouraged over the last couple of weeks.

It reminded me of something I took away from the film Searching for Sugarman.

<Possible spoilers to follow>

This documentary on the surface tells of one South African man’s search for the truth about South African pop icon, Sixto Rodriguez, a late sixties American musician who released two albums that nobody listened to in the States.  In South Africa, though, somehow those albums arrived in country during apartheid, and Rodriguez became the “voice of a generation.”  Bigger than Elvis.  Part of the allure was the urban legend, that Sixto, so depressed over his lack of success, committed suicide on stage at his last concert.  (In this day and age, the legend would be de-bunked before it was told to the second person.) Of course, the narrator discovers the error of this legend, and locates Rodriguez living very humbly in his hometown, Detroit.  A South African tour is planned and Rodriguez performs to sell-out crowds of 30,000 +.

It is fascinating and unbelievable and the kind of story you would call Disney out on… and it’s evidently (mostly) true.  And Sixto Rodriguez is a musical genius. I still remember the first time I played Cold Fact for my brother, Dennis. He nearly fell off his chair, he was so blown away.  It was one of the few times where our musical tastes aligned.

Dennis’ favorite Rodriquez tune:

As fascinating and uplifting as the film is.  One thing is left unsaid.  For something like thirty years, there was no new Rodriguez music. Actually longer, because even though his obscurity has faded away, we are still left with only those two masterpieces. It may be that Rodriguez continued writing music and playing… though it’s pretty much portrayed in the film that none of his neighborhood friends knew he was a musician.  The point is one is left with the conclusion that so discouraged by his lack of “success” Rodriguez stopped creating.  And that is a tragedy…not just for Sixto Rodriguez, but for any artist.

I don’t think that was an intended take away from the film, but it’s a bittersweet theme I acknowledge more with each viewing.

Discouragement comes at us from all corners. In the news of late, we see a lot of bullying of YA authors by so-called Social Justice Warriors with the intent of convincing the authors to pull their work off the publishing schedule.  My friend, Carrie-Anne Brownian, recently blogged on this, and it’s worth a read.

There’s always a plethora of posts (and stories told to me) by authors depressed by critical feedback they’ve received (which by the way is essentially what the bully mentioned above is…overly critical feedback based on Advanced Reader Copies). Some of these posts are so discouraging, because it’s obvious the creators are doubting themselves to the point of nearly quitting…or at the very least giving up the current work in progress.  Good Lord, do not do this! (and that is the only thing in this post that should be considered advice)

Then there’s low sales or rejection letters. All I can say on that is the sure-fire way to fail is to keep the work in a drawer.  Yes low sales can be discouraging. The flip side is true, too.  When you see a bump in sales, it’s like free-basing on dopamine.  And you know what?  For the most part, I can’t figure out what causes spikes and valleys.  I do know not writing…not creating…not putting it out there, will kill sales.  But I also think you have to be okay with the lack of visibility, the fact that no one cares (like you), and the lean times, because in the end, writing is fun and tracking sales is not so much.

So what do I do?  For one, (I wrote on this in the Resistance post) I recognize that ultimately what keeps me from my work is internal.  Not external.  So, I tell myself that those who attempt to tear me down, generally, do so to try to bring me down to their level.  And I avoid these people and exercises. If some external force keeps me from my writing that’s on me, not them.  I recognize that sales are mostly out of my control, so I don’t set goals around sales.  My goals are things that are completely under my control.  And I write the best I can and put the work out to find my audience, and realize that I will get better through writing (practice).  If I keep doing that, hopefully, no one will look back and say what happened to the last 10/20/30 years…how come there is no work?

That he not busy bein’ born is busy dyin’ — Bob Dylan






So Far, So Good


I started out this morning with a full cycle. What does that mean?

I went all the way back to the opening of God’s Golden Shore. And read forward with my hands on the keyboard, adding depth as needed, correcting typos, but mostly getting myself deeply grounded with the story and characters again.  I’m happy to say I think I’ve got something here. Really wasn’t much I needed to add, and for someone who never returns to his work once it’s hit The End… I gotta say I enjoyed reading it.

I did completely dumpster fire the second to last scene I’d written. It was a sequel I’d written of Fuzzy contemplating his next step, but it read like Mr. Writer not grounded with his character and trying to figure out, “Where to next?”.  So I scrapped the entire scene, and moved forward.  Made some minor revisions/additions to the next scene that needed to be made due to losing the sequel.  Then I hit the white page and powered on for about 700 words.

Then the house stirred with activity, and I spent some time with family.

When I got back to my machine, I started a short story on a whim. And dropped another 800 words. I’m not sure if it’s a complete flash fiction piece or the beginning of a longer short.  But I had a lot of fun with it.  Totally, out of my comfort zone, as it’s genre-less/mainstream. No idea what I’ll do with.  Probably part of the fun.

Basically, it’s fun.  Always important to remember that.

Plus, I got to write this post. <grin>


On Reading ‘Lonesome Dove’

Yes, despite the fact that I have a horrible record of finishing door-stop books, I am reading Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove.

And it’s everything I expected to be and more.  It is looooong. The pacing is questionable, partly because it is loooong. It’s also beautiful. Engaging. Fascinating. And deep on characterization, which also hurts the pacing a bit, but it’s worth it.

It’s made me think a little on my writing and characterization. Like most writers I want my characters to pop of the page and engage the reader…and I want the readers to care about them, and speak about them like they are real people.  And I’m working on this. I am. But…

As much as I love Lonesome Dove’s characters, I just don’t see me ever writing this way. Almost as if chapters are given to share character background sketches.  I’m enjoying it, but I just don’t think I’m that writer.

Then again… there maybe something to be learned here.

Another thing I’m enjoying is McMurtry’s somewhat contrarian take on cowboy stories. These aren’t really the heroic characters of cowboy legend. I’m enjoying it.

Only have 700 pages left. Ha!

Still plan on trying my hand at a Western for one of this year’s novels.

BTW, If you haven’t noticed, I’m a big music fan.  Larry’s son, James McMurtry, is one of the greatest songwriters working in America.  If you haven’t check him out, you should.  Start with “Ruby and Carlos.”


Private Eyes

I enjoyed this interview with Stephen Mertz:

Of course, it’s about one of my favorite topics…detective (Private Eye) fiction. It’s also given me a new Eye to check out, which I’m always happy to discover.

One of the interesting things (for me, and probably only me), is that Mertz grew up with 50’s eyes, and that is what it seems he’s fashioned his character on.

I grew up with the 70’s-80’s eyes… the eyes that “all” have drinking problems and such…they have a little tarnish to their armor.

I actually am not sure all of them had drinking issues (or other addictions).  Matt Scudder does and he happens to me one of my all-time favorites.  Robicheaux does, but he’s only very briefly a PI (maybe a couple of chapters of one book). Spenser, another favorite, seems pretty well put together to me. Amos Walker? I understand in the recent books he’s developed a booze problem…this is surprising to me, actually.

Nonetheless, interesting to me to note Mertz is throwing back to the 50’s, and setting his Eye in the 70’s.  I see my influence as those 70’s-80’s Eyes and setting mine in the 21st century, but I am regularly told by readers (well as regularly as I am told anything by readers) that my stories look back to those paperback original days… Spillane’s name is often mentioned.

I dunno.  I feel like I’m going all Faulkner with this post. I will say that my covers ARE an attempt at a retro 50’s PBO look.  Fortunately, I have had a couple (literally two) people compliment my covers as a throwback to that era.

I’m gonna check out Mertz’s Kilroy book(s).  If you like my books, maybe you’d be interested in checking out another detective fiction writer, too.  One with a helluva longer record than mine.



My PI books:

Everything is Broken


North County Girl


Looking for Recommendations

I’ve been reading a lot of Detective Novels (fortunately, it is what I love to read) and Westerns.  If you have recommendations in those fields, okay.  Chances are…in the Detective genre, I will know of them.

What I’m really interested in are some other genre recommendations, and I’ll share a little about what I’m interested in to help in those recs:

Space Opera – preferably stuff that is focused on a small cast of characters rather than jumping through the galaxy following the exploits of multiple casts… also I’m okay with series, but I like each book to be self-contained enough that if I jump on a Book 2, I can still enjoy the story.  (examples in TV/movie – Firefly, and to a lesser extent the original Star Wars)

Cyberpunk – I like Gibson, and (to a lesser extent) Stephenson. I’d be particularly interested in a more contemporary look at the genre…what does cyberpunk look today now that some of the original stuff has sorta/kinda come to pass?

Sword and Sorcery – similar to my request on Space Opera, I am not looking for sprawling, epic sagas. I’m looking for gritty… I’m looking for stories about a “hero” and possible small cadre of comrades doing things that may only affect them…i.e. the fate of the world isn’t hanging on their actions… I have no clue whether there is much of this type of fiction still being written.

Fiction that you think is Literary – I don’t subscribe to the notion that there is a Literary fiction genre.  But I am interested in hearing about anything in any genre that you think is “Literary.” I.e. spectacular, memorable work.  As an example, I’m currently reading the Western Lonesome Dove. It’s pretty damn good (though holy smokes is it long), and I’d say literary.

On this last one, I’ll play along with a couple of “baseball” novels –  The Brothers K by David James Duncan  and The Celebrant by Eric Rolfe Greenberg.

So, whatcha got?

— TD





Not much of a post tonight, I’m afraid.  But things have been good.

Over the weekend, we had a small gathering of writers get together for a write-in.  It was a good time, as it most often is when writers get together. Good conversation, and words were added to the current work.  One of our writers shared a little about the fantasy novel she is writing, and I was awestruck by the creativity…the idea. Another shared how he had submitted a story to the New Yorker. Freakin’ cool.  Dream big or go home, I say.

Then today I met with two other local writers for lunch, and it was more of the same without the adding words to the current work. Two hours later, we decided it might be best for the two of us workin’ for the man to get back on the clock. The other is a professional writer, who makes his living at it… and makes his own hours.  His work can be found here:

I guess the point of this post is that the support of the writing community and really any artists’ community is a beautiful thing. The positive energy…the way we lift each other up…all inspiring.

— TD


Resist the Resistance

“It’s not the writing part that’s hard. What’s hard is the sitting down to write.”  Steven Pressfield in The War of Art.

Pressfield then goes on a long explanation of what Resistance is.  Not a political movement in this case.  Rather that internal force that keeps us from doing the work that we profess to love. He has a great list of all types of activities that elicit Resistance.  My favorite is:

Any activity whose aim is tighter abdominals.

(Grin).  But true.

In the writing community (on social media), it’s rare for a day to go by without someone posting some humorous meme about all the ways we writers procrastinate…all the things that get in the way of the writing.  They are humorous in the same way most comedy is…because, we are able to see the truth in them.

Of course, they are also sad… because, we are able to see the truth in them.

Pressfield’s The War of Art is an excellent book. Like most books like these I don’t agree with it all, but there are some great takeaways to guide my journey.  One of those is that Resistance is Internal.  The world is not trying to keep me from work, Resistance just wants me to think that.

(Note: things like extreme stress, physical recovery, and grief, I do believe are worth allowing the effort to get through, before battling Resistance, because that war would be like taking a dinner knife to a gun duel.)


*I wrote this on a short break at ~1,000 words on today’s work.


Kristine Kathryn Rush posted this in regards to the latest publishing scandal:

Sad stuff.

I wonder if this individual started out with the typical artist’s dream of doing her work and finding an audience, and got sucked into the “beating the system” mentality when things didn’t take off like she had hoped.

Or did she just start out seeing an opportunity to make a quick buck, and wanted to strike while the iron was hot?  I guess the way people get sucked into Ponzi schemes.

Obviously, the first one is more depressing to me.  I’ve noticed this trend of engaging others to write your series books among indies…to push the building of the back list and staying constantly in the churn of Amazon algorithms.  The ghostwriting thing isn’t indie-exclusive, of course… but, ah, what do I know…

I guess I know my perspective. Writing is fun. It’s why I do this… publishing is intermittently fun and not fun…but never as fun as telling stories.  For that reason, I could never see me hiring ghostwriters to churn out work with my name on it to chase a dollar. (I could actually see me ghostwriting much easier than hiring the ghostwriter…though, that doesn’t really appeal to me, either.)  This is one of those cases where I just find it hard to put myself in another’s shoes.

And I haven’t really even touched on the plagiarism.  It’s interesting that this person appears to feel she is not at fault, because it was hired out to ghostwriters and it wasn’t her who actually did the cutting and pasting.  I assume her name is on the copyright, which means she probably has a rude awakening coming.  Yet, she doesn’t seem to acknowledge that there is something a little skeezy in what she was doing to begin with.

Again, I know traditional publishing has implemented ghost writers for ages.  Somehow this seems different…or maybe not.  Because what do I know?

Other than what I will do and won’t do.

— TD


Rough going

I haven’t written in a couple of days.  I think it’s starting to make me ill.

I’ve had couple of reminders of my brother this week. Which reminded me of Mom.  Hell, it’s reminded me of the Uncle that lived with us, who we lost as well.  Grief is nasty. I get some time when the pain eases, and then it yanks the cover away and there it is… the huge gaping hole…where my mother used to reside…where my brother did…

I had migraine-like headaches last night and woke up with them today. I had a couple of job placement events I participated in today…mainly because I don’t want to get in the habit of skipping them. Of course, it didn’t do much for my disposition.  But at least the headaches have subsided…

Tomorrow morning, I’m going to force my butt into the chair and work on God’s Golden Shore. I left off at the discovery of a body…so, one would think I have some interesting work ahead of me.

Tonight?  I’m going to re-visit some Pressfield, because Resistance is a bitch, but it can me tamed.

Btw, excellent post on Dean Wesley Smith’s blog tonight, as he posts a blog he wrote in 2010 about the changes in the publishing world. I wasn’t writing much when this was all going on… but I found this bit of history fascinating.  Here it be:


Check out some books:

Everything is Broken


North County Girl