SNYDERMANIA: Nov 9, 2013

Saturday, November 9, 2013

ADVENTURES OF A BUG MAN WRITER

Contrary to popular belief, the job can of a get pretty rough. The gruesome photo to the left clearly demonstrates my point. I had no idea things would get so ugly when I loaded up my truck and headed off to the bug wars that day. I had no intention of walking into an orange tree, but as you can clearly see, it happened, baby. Sure walking into orange trees is dangerous, but danger is part of the job.

The job gets physical too. I've pulled muscles on various parts on my being. It's not something I tell my colleagues since most of them are in their 70s and 80s. Danger, pain and, humiliation, it's all part of the job, baby.

I am a bug man. It's what I do.

Actually, I'm a bug man/writer. Cheri Holdcroft was kind enough to invite me to read and speak to her English 102 class at Mesa Community College this week. What a rush. We talked about writing for almost two hours. Great bunch of students. They made up for my knock on the mellon.

I'm the author of THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON and THE SPIRIT GUIDE BAR.

You can buy my book at the following venues:

PAPA JOE'S BARBER SHOP in Chandler, Arizona

CHANDLER AUTO AND TIRE in Chandler, Arizona

ZIA RECORDS throughout California, Arizona and Nevada

THE BOOK FROG in Rolling Hills, California

I'll be signing books at THE BOOK FROG in Rolling Hills, California Saturday, November 30th between 2:00 and 4:00.

My books are available at the site below. Imagine, you can download both books for the price of a measly six pack of beer.

http://www.amazon.com/William-Snyder/e/B005OEFL7E/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

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NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?