“Unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, I resolved–to write a book.” Edward Gibbon (1737-1794)
cuddly wedge head, Spin!
Willie war boy / party girl
bully back-up lights
reason rules the day
rose petals through noiseless stream
Scottish monarchs ruled
over the heather and hills
Haggis, Kilts, and Blood
Big climbing mountains
train for Everest, K2
alpine makes its own weather
rain, snow, cold, isolation
is where I’ll soon be going
ice floes breaking up
Wet brown bears fishing
flying meals must be tasty
at play in the falls
amazing flying rage; boom!
–get away from me
feelings will fail you
real love is a decision
heal first, then move on
Kiss me, great beauty
move me hinge-less thru rapture
love me all my days
the world is not enough, dig!
know thyself, and laugh
There seem to be as many books about writing as there are stars in the sky. Here are a few of my favorites:
Writing Down the Bones – Natalie Goldberg
Bird by Bird – Anne Lamott
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft – Stephen King
Fearless Writing – William Kenower
A Natural History of the Senses – Diane Ackerman
Henry Miller on Writing
On Writing Well – William Zinsser
One Writers Beginnings – Eudora Welty
Sin and Syntax – Constance Hale
The Right to Write – Julia Cameron
The Spooky Art: Some Thoughts on Writing – Norman Mailer
Writing is My Drink – Theo Pauline Nestor
A Dangerous Profession – Frederick Busch
How to Write a Mystery – Larry Beinhart
You Are a Writer – Jeff Goins
No Plot? No Problem! – Chris Baty
The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers – Christopher Vogler
Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting – Robert McKee
From here on out, I will do my best to write Mystery stories to the best of my ability and if they turn into literary fiction, so be it. If they stay at the level of genre fiction that’s okay too as long as I am better than James Michener. I really can’t stand his writing especially the constant need for the info dump. I might also write Thrillers because I like them better than Mysteries.
When I read Ernest Hemingway, John Steinbeck, William Faulkner, Norman Mailer, Saul Bellow, and many others I come away wanting to be a writer. When I read John Grisham, Stephen King, or James Michener I want to either be a lawyer, a clock-tower sniper, or just go back to being a mechanic. A writer has to take me on a journey where I forget where I am.
Wild creature, so beautiful
sad lilting eyes
suicide was not your end
all telling touch, electric
radiant love as a rose
God’s perfect gift.
not as they seem,
Winter no longer
and Spring anew
rises from the dead.
The only thing I have done very well in front of thousands of people is to play violin as a child.
I was off of work due to an altercation with my boss who was trying to fire me as he had two others before me. I was driving north on Evergreen in South Everett late one afternoon during rush hour traffic. Hundreds of cars were stopped in both directions and I came to a stop a few blocks shy of Airport Road. I witnessed a shouting match going on between a blond kid in an old 1978 Pontiac Trans-Am and a Samoan couple in a small red car. The yelling continued and male Samoan got out of his still running car and went after the young guy in the T/A. Neither one was winning the fight, but the kid was losing bit by bit. At this point the wife/female exploded out of the car leaving the car running with their two kids in the back seat, proceeded into the fracas and showed the finest boxing skills I have ever seen in a woman. Damn, she was good! The kid was losing in a big way after her first few seconds in the fight. A guy got out of the truck in front of me and I got out. We stopped the fight in short order. The Samoan guy still wanted to fight me, but I told him to put his hands away. He didn’t scare me and he knew it. The other Samaritan was a jailer at Snohomish County jail. The cops showed up, took statements, arrested NO ONE, and no one else helped in the least. Months later I received a summons to go to court in Lynwood for this incident. I witnessed case after case being dismissed before they finally got to mine. The judge called the prosecuting attorney up to the bench and proceeded to dismiss the charges. I stood up in court and verbally berated the judge and the proceedings until the judge told the prosecutor to go have a talk with me. I told my story twice with all of these cops and court personnel watching me. The charges were dropped against the wife even though I told them she was the experienced fighter. Months later, after that big Samoan heard I was not backing down, pleaded guilty to all charges.
“I really think for many of us, poetry chooses us.”
Kamilah Aisha Moon