Tomorrow morning I travel to Chicago to attend the mystery writer's convention there. I have a number of reasons for going. The person who puts on the entire affair (working at it all year for little or nothing) is a wonderful person. That would be cause alone. Last year, in my first go at attending a writer's anything, I met some really neat people and was included in just about everything that was going on. I was quite surprised by that, as I am not so accustomed (the 'naturally insubordinate' man I have been declared to be, if you will recall). This year my first novel is set to be published on April 15th, so I decided to attend the conference to kick off the book. It is kind of a warm loving convention, not like most. That wonderful director of the convention gave me five slots, to be on panels or conduct sessions. That will mostly be about Hollywood screenwriting I know. Something that I am coming away from. Oh, don't get me wrong, I love to screen write. But I can't stand the people in that end of the business. I have always wanted to be a novelist, but had to use the screenwriting to springboard myself, since I do not have the right last name. I am also not of the proper cultural heritage, and I am too old for that scene (like over twenty!). Reality scripting is in (writing idiocy for idiots), animation is all the rage, which is not so bad, and computers are only linked, in that reality, to people who have a one or two before the second number of their age. And without assumed computer knowledge and capability you are nothing there. Hell, you are not much out here without it either....evidence John McCain.
So I am off to speak about things I don't particularly like in order to do something I love. Sound familiar? I am going off to work! I'm a writer. I am not used to work. That is not really true. Rewriting, and all the maddening detail that goes into getting finally edited work into the public's hands, is a heck of a lot of work. My first book is called 'The Boy,' and it took about twenty re-writes until final. That first work is only just short of three hundred pages, so do the math. Six thousand pages of work. I love the book. Only two people, in the chain of people who read it and passed it on, figured out that it was only an introduction, however. The real book is called 'The Warrior' and it will come out in 2010, unless you, the public, buy all of The Boy that you can get your hands on...which I do not expect. Then it might come out sooner. I am not Colin Powell (who can't write at all) or Sarah Palin (who can write even less) so I do not have a name to market. I am just a guy who has lived one hell of a life, and write a lot about it, but never about the living of it. I use devices. Like this blog. Like my books. Like the character House. I learned long ago that people do not really believe what other people tell them directly. They believe things they overhear. They believe fictional writing more than non-fictional just because most of the non-fictional authors have lied so much. So much that nobody believes what they read of 'the truth.' The truth is for sale today. And it is a very malleable substance indeed. Like the 'news.' I live in a time where John Stewart has more credibility than Charlie Gibson. And with good reason.
I have a website now. I never thought I would. I don't know why. A seven year old I love looked at the site and said 'cool' when he viewed the first page. He was very tickled to have seen that same art work in progress in my basement months earlier. But he also said that the site was 'boring.' I was cut to the quick. But I was also responsive. He tried to make me feel better we he noted my pain. "Maybe you can change it to add some games, or make it less boring," he ventured. He likes me. And feels sorry for someone as old and boring as I am. See what you think. The site is: http://www.themastodons.com