MERYL STREEP AND CUTE NUNS IN THE 1960's

#167 Dad’s Mini Review

"Doubt"

DAD * DAD * DAD * DAD

The highly acclaimed film, "Doubt" is indeed worth the eight bucks. Though provoking. I gave it four out of five dads. Philipp Seymour Hoffman is dazzling and so is Meryl Streep.

Got to tell you though, I’ve never been a big fan of Meryl Streep. She’s a good actress, but it seems like she’s always staring out of windows, looking monumentally depressed. And another thing, doesn’t Meryl Streep sound like a made up name? What’s that? You’re saying lots of movie stars have made up names? Oh yeah, I guess that’s true. But names like John Wayne and Kirk Douglass don’t sound nearly as made up as Meryl Streep. And like I said, she does spend too much screen time staring out of windows and looking awfully depressed. There you have it; it’s all on the table. Now you know how I really feel about Meryl Streep.

One of the characters is a young nun, played by Amy Adams. I couldn’t get over the fact that she was cute as a button. As a veteran of the 1960’s Catholic schools, I feel compelled to set the record straight on the matter of cute nuns. There were no cute nuns in the 1960’s. End of story.

One more thing, what has happened to the American public? Did a huge percentage of people suddenly become hopelessly stupid or were the hopelessly stupid people staying away from the movies until now?

Note number one to the hopelessly stupid people:
Don’t text in the movie theater. Your flashing phone screen is incredibly distracting to the guy behind you.

Note number two to the hopelessly stupid people:
You’re not supposed to talk on the phone in a movie theater.

Note number three to the hopelessly stupid people:
Leave your kids at home or at the child care center which is conveniently located IN THE MOVIE THEATER.

Where was I? Oh, the review. It’s a good movie, but unless you’re hopelessly tolerant, stay out of the movie theaters. Wait for the video.



Here’s the Spirit Guide Bar rejection email of the day.

Thank you for the interesting query. The concept has many compelling elements but due to our workload and current areas of expertise, I do not believe we are quite the right agency for this project. We are rarely able to add new authors to our roster.

Not bad – as rejections go…

EXPLODING CHRISTMAS TREES, CHARLES BARKLEY AND STEVE URKEL

Thanks for taking the time to read my first post of 2009. Bear with me as I continue to search for my blog voice…

I just fished the third draft of The Spirit Guide Bar. Nice goin’, me. For my next trick, I'm going to pull an agent out of my hat. Just watch.

Here’s a relatively painless rejection email I received this morning.

Many thanks for sending us this proposal, which I read with interest. I considered it carefully but I’m afraid on balance it just doesn’t quite grab my imagination in the way that it must for me to offer to represent you. So I must follow my instinct and pass on this occasion. I’m sorry to be so disappointing, but thanks for thinking of us. Of course this is a totally subjective judgment, so do try other agents and I wish you every success.

These guys are good. I don’t even feel bad.

It’s been a good a holiday break – exactly what I was looking for. There’s been time with my wife, kids and extended family - and time to write. There’ve been the Christmas movies andChristmas music, the beef logs, artichoke dip, enchiladas, and eggnog - lots of eggnog; every year I buy too much eggnog. And then there’s the Christmas tree. It’s been a good Christmas tree. The comfortable aroma of pine is still strong. Honestly, I hate to see it come down. With my nephews, it’s another story. Their pupils explode with excitement every time another tree is tossed out to the curb. They’re probably waiting outside the front door right now, ready to pounce. They discovered that a Christmas tree tossed into an average bonfire explodes into a regular Disneyland for pyromaniacs. Dried out Christmas tree number sixty-three went up in flames last night.

Enough with the exploding Christmas trees, can we talk about Charles Barkley? Just in case your life is so balanced that you know nothing about sports or pop culture, Chares Barkley was a very good professional basketball player who is now a very charismatic basketball announcer. He’s got a lot of money and power. Come to think of it, he’s been talking about running for governor of Alabama. For as long as I can remember, the guy has said and done exactly what he felt like saying and doing. He’s been something of a permanent fixture on the Scottsdale nightclub circuit, drinking, chasing skirts and engaging in the occasional barroom brawl. A few years ago he threw some poor schmuck through a plate glass window – just like in the movies.

Tuesday night the Scottsdale police nailed Mr. Barkley for driving under the influence. Apparently, he had been partying it up with forty or so celebrities and Scottsdale socialites. Among his associates was former network television star, Jaleel White. That’s right, Steve Urkel. All I can say about that is, WHAT THE…? Phoenix’s publicity hungry Sheriff Joe is undoubtedly chomping at the bit. The question is will Sir Charles’s fat wallet say him from an issue of pink skivvies and a few days in Phoenix Tent City?

Every time I hear of a celebrity getting nailed for drunk driving I just shake my head. Aren’t these people filthy stinking rich? Barkley is notorious for routinely dropping thousands a night in the Scottsdale clubs. Charles, why not hire some poor dope to drive you around? I’m extending a public offer to club-hopping filthy stinking rich celebrities in Arizona. I am willing to drive you and your entourage around all night in my regal 1999 Chevy Astro van for the equitable sum of two hundred bucks. This is a legitimate offer. If any of you out there in my loyal army of eleven readers knows a hard drinking celebrity, please send them my way.

My daughters are looming over my shoulder, attaching clip-on earrings to my ears and putting bows in my hair, waiting for me to get off of the computer so they can log onto Webkins. They’re making it hard to concentrate on my writing, but I’m glad they’re with me.

I’m going to play with my kids now.

Happy New Year.

THE SPIRIT GUIDE BAR AND THE YEAR OF ACHIEVING THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM

I suppose I should tell you about my novel. It’s called The Spirit Guide Bar. The main character is a beaten down high school teacher, not so loosely based on me. Unsure of his place in the world, he makes a conscious attempt at transcendental meditation and finds himself in the midst of a full blown vision, bellied up at the Spirit Guide Bar, having a beer and a shot with the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, Ernest Hemmingway and Ulysses S. Grant. And no, there were no psychedelic drugs involved in the development of this book.

When the beaten down teacher mentions that he is experiencing a vision – an illusion, the scarecrow responds with, ‘The illusion you’re experiencing right now is more real than anything that ever has happened to you or ever will happen to you because it is happening to you - right now.”

It’s my favorite line in the book.

I know precisely what’s going through your mind. What right thinking agent wouldn’t bust his tail to represent a book like The Spirit Guide Bar? I also know why you’re thinking this. It’s because most of you are friends and family that I have talked into visiting my blog. Then again, you could be sitting there feeling incredibly embarrassed for me, shaking your head and saying to yourself, “This poor schlep has been pounding away at the keyboard for more than four years, and this is the kind of crap he's writing?”

I’ve already sent out 155 query emails.

Here is the first of my thirty-five rejection emails for The Spirit Guide Bar.

We are fully booked but thanks for trying our agency and good luck elsewhere.

I don’t know about you, but I like it. It’s understated, short, and strait to the point.

Don’t let the self deprecating humor fool you, I will publish my writing. At times this goal of becoming a published writer seems impossible, but it’s not impossible I’ll find a way. As John Wooden said, “Goals achieved with little effort are seldom worthwhile or lasting.”

Do you have a seemingly impossible goal? I don’t know about you, but as far as I’m concerned, 2009 is going to be the year of achieving the seemingly impossible dream – darn it.

Thanks for reading

THE EIGHT FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON

I am a writer. It's been an awfully long time since I've had an audience - something like nine years. Thank you for being my audience.

The truth is I’ve been a writer just about as long as I’ve been able to hold a pencil. My literary journey began with Santa Clause and Mike the Mouse. I wrote, directed and starred in the production in second grade. It was an action packed rip off of the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer Christmas special. As Mike the Mouse, I saved Christmas by beating the snot out of the Abominable Snow man, who was played quite nicely by Prank Ponto. It was cool. My next big production was staged in fifth grade. It was my own epic rendition of a Catholic School Passion Play. Playing the Thomas the Apostle, I led the ten good apostles in a heroic military style rescue of Christ, killing a half dozen Roman soldiers in the process.

Since grade school, I've continued to write. There was a thrilling four year period over which I had the honor of creating cheesy educational TV programming, which was, I suppose, an offshoot of my elementary school theater career. At Educational Management Group and Planet Think, I wrote, produced and hosted (starred in) the shows. It all ended when we were bought out by a British Educational Company. They shut the live production end of the outfit down, thus bringing to an end the best job I ever had. It was back to classroom teaching for me. Thanks a lot British people. If it weren't us, you'd all be speaking German. Shoot, there goes my vast British following.

About four years ago, I decided I wanted to get serious about writing. Rather than teach summer school and work second jobs to earn money to support my family, I've been spending the summers and school breaks writing. The first summer was trying to say the least. Because I didn't have a functioning computer, I wrote at the public library, braving knuckle heads on cell phones, screaming kids, and chatty teenagers. It's better now that I have a computer.

The product of that first summer is collection of short quirky personal stories called The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son. My father did in actuality spend considerable time in the slammer and does indeed have just eight fingers. Actually, that's a point of personal contention. Doesn't everyone have just eight fingers - and two thumbs? Perhaps I should call the book The Six Fingered Criminal's Son. How do describe a guy with two missing fingers? It's confusing, isn’t it?

I intend to share a few of the stories with you. I'd also like to take you with me on the path of soul shattering rejection. After being rejected by more than a hundred agents and magazines, I put the collection of stories on the back burner and wrote a novel. I'll tell you about the novel tomorrow. Sending query letters by US mail has pretty much become a thing of the past. Now writers can send off email query letters - hundreds of them, thousands of them. Now this is a good thing and this is bad thing. Writers save money and time, but the agents and publishers are inundated. An agent told me she receives more than three thousand query letters a month. At this point, no less than two hundred agents and publishers have sent me rejection emails.

Here is an example of an oxymoronic good rejection email. The errors are the editor's, not mine...

Bill, thanks for the submission. What I'd do to this in compress it a bit. The folksy voice is distracting, in the end. It's not a bad story, overall, but it needs significant tightening to keep a reader's attention. We'll have to pass, but try us again in the future.

I really hate rejection…

#167 Dad - The First Blog

This first small step into blogworld goes out to no one - and anyone. I am calling my blog #167 Dad. It's a joke, get it? Does anyone else notice tens of thousands of middle aged guys wandering around wearing #1 Dad t-shirts. How can they all be #1 Dads? Isn't #167 Dad somewhat more realistic?

I am compelled to tell you I am a former stand up comic. If you're wondering why I stopped doing stand up, please refer to the #167 Dad joke. It took me close to two years to figure out the jokes were supposed to be funny.

OK, my first posting is complete.

Geronimoooooooooo!