Beginning Again

You know you would think after finishing four published novels and many more unpublished novels that starting a new novel would not be difficult but the truth is it is like riding a bicycle the first time every time. Some would say this is not true and that it does become easier. I will say this: writing the same type of novel becomes easier but to write something truly new and different without relying on the same old devices and crutches is like learning to write all over again. I think the only way writing really works is when one throws all that one has learned overboard and opens oneself again to the inspiration of the divine, the thrill of the discovery, and the agony of possible defeat. Only then can one have a chance for revelation, ingenuity, the miracle of originality. I believe learning to write again is the only way for the writer to remain honest and not cheat and take refuge in the safe harbor of others wakes. This is very difficult. It is more difficult if one has thrown a few books onto the dusty shelves of libraries. These books tug at you as you attempt something new. These books say, "look here, do what you know, just change a few things around, have a glass of wine and quit all this brain twisting in the futile pursuit of writing something new and different.You've done it three times now. Why try it again?" I often ask myself this question as I sit and face the blank screen and feel my novel is a rock gathering steady moss on a very steep incline. I must have already given up on the new novel three times, declaring, it doesn't' work. Give it up! But then I return the next day and sit back down to learn anew. I suppose that is why one takes it on in the first place. There is something very humbling about starting a new novel and all the ego gets quickly washed away with the thought that maybe your talent has just vanished over the next hill. Then, slowly, maybe it's the third time in a week...the flame flickers then begins to catch. You fan the flames and suddenly you are on a steady burn. You remember why you came in the first place and the world is right again. You are writing.

Those Poor Poor Bankers

Oh the shame. The shame. The Masters of the Universe have had their income tied down...Oh, No! A paltry five hundred thousand dollars. CAPPED! Why these men have suffered, they have single handedly destroyed the economy and this is how we show our gratitude by capping their income to the penurious amount of five hundred grand. No more junkets, jets, mansions, caviar, gold, silver, chateaus, beach houses, Rolls....Just a measly cup of coffee in a Starbucks lamenting the gold old days of making millions, millions by God and this is how they show their gratitude? I tell you what I would do. Let them keep their bailout money. We don't let anybody restrict our income. Five hundred thousand. Are you kidding? You couldn't buy a hot dog with that and they expect us to do our job on that? Nope. That's it. We won't take it. Keep your money and your five hundred grand...we'll do it the old fashioned way...what was that guys said from Merrill Lynch...oh yeah, we'll EARN IT. It's like they want us to be middle class or something. Why what's the average middle class family make now forty? Forty five? Who are you kidding? If I want to buy a jet then I'll buy one! If I want to go to Las Vegas and spend millions on a junket then I'm going! You don't tell me what to do. Five hundred thousand. I spit on that. Chump change for chumps. Wait until they see what happens when you tell bankers how much they can make. Banks will start to go out of business, buy worthless derivatives, mortgage backs, make bad loans...wait until that all starts, then whose going to be sorry? Hah?

The Guilty Secret of Email

Notice how you just don't get a response with email? The standard rejection letter for anything now is a no response. Once upon a time we used to get letters, responses from people saying, "no thank you, thank you for applying." In the cyber world the universal rejection letter is the black void. No response. Not even an effort to deem our request worthy. The impersonality of the computer world is affecting every day life. Humans talk. Not anymore. How often do you talk on the phone now? How often do you chat? Not much I'll bet. Whole lives are now carried on through the medium of the cyber word. And that makes for a pretty dull life. We love and hate email. It is a barrier against those we don't want to talk too and a moat against us when we want to talk to someone. You have to love corporations and the way they hide behind their websites. No longer do we have a human to complain too when the wheels fall off our car...no go to the website and register your complaint. It is the biggest firewall in the world. The human voice carries emotion, our humanity, the cyber word carries only information that can be deleted in a nanosecond. Even these blogs our highly expendable. A newspaper carried weight, it cried out with its very existence that it be recognized. The blog or the cyber news page is just a button away from vanishing. It is the expendable quality, the absolute evanescene of the interaction that is most frightening. We are human and at some point we will really want to have a conversation again with another human. So what is the guilty secret of email...we are our own worst enemies. We are now afraid of being engaged in a conversation. We are afraid our precious time will be used up by some person we cannot get off the phone. We would rather have those few sentences convey our business and be on on our way. We have now become slaves to cyber time lest we miss even a single nanosecond. Of course the backside of this is that when we do feel like talking to someone, there are few who will take our call. Those roads once closed are hard to reopen and we get an email a day later saying, "I saw that you called, sorry I was busy." The strange thing is we have relationships with people where we never hear their voice. That's weird. So our only chance is to break the cycle. The next time you get an email from a friend or colleague, freak them out and pick up the phone. They probably won't answer, but you never know. If you get them on the phone, blow their mind and say, "I'm just calling to chat." Stunned silence will probably greet you, but then again, they might say something. Humans are like that. Once they get talking, it's hard to shut them up.

http://www.billhazelgrove.com/

Dear Mr. President

New guy huh? Listen. I know what it is like to be the new man. I am constantly the new man at my jobs and I have had many. Now that you have your cubicle (Oval Office in your case) you can take a little time and get organized. Now you are going to notice a lot of OWG's (old white guys) at the company. Don't worry about these guys. They will never be on your side. A lot of times when I start somewhere I find out who the real decision makers are and I concentrate on them and ignore all the lifers. They are just hanging around to get their pensions. Besides, the only people that can fire you are the people that put you there. Now, go down and get a candy bar or something during your first couple of weeks. Vending machines are a great place to get to know your coworkers. Again, watch out for the OWG's they are not your friends and never will be. I make it a point to, you know, chitchat, get to know who the real players are. Now when you get back to your cube(Oval Office in your case) at some point you are going to have to make a decision about the OWG's. You can try and be nice to them, but it wont' really matter. The way I play it at my new jobs is I try and be low key for the first few weeks, which you are doing a pretty good job at, but then, I let the people know there is a new sheriff in town. If people don't want to play ball with me and they aren't my boss and I don't think anyone is your boss, then *&&% em. You don't need them. There was another guy at the company from a long long time ago, went by three initials... FD something. Anyway, he had to deal with the OWG's and you know what he did? He just went right through them. Rammed through his legislation and even when they tried to declare it all unconstitutional, he just kept on with his programs. He had nuggies. But he never let the OWG's get to him. He just didn't care. That's my advice to you . Ignore them. They'll eventually get tired of hanging around and take their pensions. So, get comfortable, put your feet up on the desk, then tomorrow, bust some ass.
http://www.billhazelgrove.com

Waiting in the Green Room at WGN Chicago

You have glimmers of something passing. Sometimes you just know that what you are seeing might not be around too long. Maybe it was the space reserved for the microphone from the Scopes monkey trial. Maybe it was the foundation of the Chicago Tribune building inscribed on Lower Michigan with Culled in 1920. The slight wisp of snow in the cold darkness as a guard buzzes you into the WGN studio in the bowels of the old Tribune building and you follow a man up to the green room, passing the cases where old microphones reside and black and white pictures of celebrities long passed. Then you sit down and wait and there is no one there in the green room, just you and rows and rows of pictures of people who look curiously human. The celebrity quality is gone and they are just men and women with gray hair, getting old. A thirty minute radio interview on WGN in Chicago is something you want to hang on too. The man doing the interview is the son of a legendary newspaper man from the Chicago Sun Times. You can hear the footfalls and you shake hands and he tells you to relax and do whatever the *&%$ you want. All Chicago old school. Then you are on in front of the WGN microphone telling your story for thirty minutes. You try and imagine people all over Chicago waking up and hearing your voice, but your mind doesn't work that way. All you think is that it is just the two of you talking and it doesn't go near long enough. There are a million things you want to say, but you just can't get it all in and then you are walking back through the silent building and down through the guard room and suddenly outside in the cold. It's barely eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. Chicago is empty and just waking up. You drive through the streets, knowing you have used up one of the moments of your life that will never come back. You hit the city limits, then slip into the past.

http://www.billhazelgrove.com/
Rocket Man will be out in January