Category Archives: a day in the life

Day to day thoughts, tickling my fancy. The random stream of chattering consciousness striding royally through me each day.

grey hairs

To punch a wall,
Light a cigareete, deep
Breathe, inhale, feel
The burn bite deep in
Throat, taste the sour
Acrid smoke, nurse the
Bloody knuckles, and
Wonder where the basest
Emotions spring from, within
This chest, from under breast,
Deep inside the core, need
I say anything more?

What caged lionmonster
Paces within, growing older
Days shorter, growing double chin,
The tea-time Sunday of life’s
Short weekend, the 30’s half-
Way done, teens long past,
The forties bearing down, all
Too fast, hair thinning, greys
Sprouting, don’t know about
Innings, yet it’s been a good
Outing, so far, not so bad, yet
Somehow still quite sad, not just
What I’d hoped for, yet more
Happiness than ever had, this
Stillness, a dream, this patience
Like steam from the shower,
Leaving skin soaked clean through,
Not half of life lived, the yoke sat
Quite skew, dragging half of me
Down, no lower than ground,
Which in my own personal health,
Is as good as could be hoped
For lower than that I have been
For so long, that ground level is
At least solid, something strong.

A place to stand, but not for
Long, for the changes that
Come, as we grow each old tonight
Bring the dawn of a new day, the
Taste of the future, though teasing
Still bright, blinding me to my
Own, still feeling for what is right,
Striking out on my own, no fear
Is the only way forward, for fear
Is the ultimate leach of the soul,
Crippling our very being through
Unfair weight and poor sight.

This is not the end, nor even
The beginning. This is the middle,
Time to start building. Foundation
Is strong, bricks easily formed,
Mortar of tears thickened by years
Of being bourne.

And me in the middle, still young,
Laughing, as the walls of a new
Place grow all around, this is me
This is mine, it is home which I
Have found.

Home, to build
On finally solid ground.

junk jettisoned, ebooks printed…and all’s well

This is just a quickie…I know, I know, usually it takes a good couple of dates, some wining and dining, a few smiles, a hug, a kiss a cuddle…and then onto the final frontier…space…or at least what’s left of it aside from the junk we jettison out there as the ultimate chav planet in the galaxy…but more on that later.

(No, more on that now! Are those in charge of disposing of earth’s rubbish the same senseless oiks who dump old refrigerators in front of their homes on the off chance someone else wants it, or maybe the neighbours will get fed up enough – as I sometimes do – and clear it to the dump themselves? Seriously! If I was an alien race hell-bent on world domination, or just a friendly neighborhood alien race looking to drop in on the newbies and see how they are settling in, whether the kids have found school to be tough, or even just to borrow a few million gallons of oil, and I saw the rubbish floating around our planet by way of dead satellites, space waste, jettisoned rubbish and general debris that we humans have surrounded our planet with…well, I would think twice about visiting. Do you regularly go meet and greet neighbours who have old kitchen sinks dumped in their front gardens? Think about it! We could be missing out on the evolutionary-jump of a sentient race which thinks we are the chavs of the Milky Way…and we’ll never know…and now back to our regular broadcast…)

What was I on about? Oh, yes, I’ve published three compilations of, well, stuff from this blog as ebooks on Amazon – just search for ‘Emerson Freedman’ on amazon, or type in ‘Poemetics’…or even just click on one of the three links to those books on Amazon on the rigth hand side here…no not there…over to the…yeah…to the…to the right…your other right…yeah, there, the ‘Poemetics’, ‘A Day in the Life’ and ‘Storytology’ links. Yup. Those. No, you can’t download them for free. They cost a whole £0.71. Not cause I’m greedy. Cause Amazon don’t do free ebooks. Go figure. Cheapest I could make them….no really…it was….whatever.

So, go on, have a look, download them, let me know what you think. Share them with a friend. This is the first foray into epublishing for me…the first ‘real’ epublishing books I created…by way of Word to Plain Text to Jutoh to Amazon…cool stuff, eh?

Let me know what you think. Feedback is always appreciated. Even if it is not precisely what I want to hear. (The truth is not always pretty, I know. But if you’re going to be honest, go easy…I am more fragile than I look!)

Til next time, bon nuit,

Em (mE)

depressing pictures of perfection

I know that pictures of perfect women are said to cause upset and distress with the younger generation who try and emulate the bullshit airbrushed perfection they see. But give a thought to us single men who see those pictures and think, “I would be happy with someone comfortable, stop selling me perfection, I don’t want it.”

Am I the only one who gets depressed by pictures of perfection?

Blast from the past – Anthrax at Starbucks in 2007

I caught Anthrax at Starbucks

On a day like any other,
with nothing much to do,
I found myself at Starbucks,
at a table, built for two.

Chatting around the subject,
Of money I didn’t have,
A subject only lit,
By the company that I shared,
The conversation was winding down,
When I looked up and they were there.

They agreed to take a picture,
We chatted for a while,
About New York and weather,
And travelling in style.

I must say, for Gods of Rock,
They’re the friendliest of blokes,
They even had the good grace,
To laugh at my stupid jokes.

So the next time you have a go,
At Americans impolite,
Or brazenly telling you something,
That you know is just not right,
Remember the moral of this tale,
That looks can be deceiving,
I only wished I had asked for back stage passes,
Before I saw them leaving!

I may never have the pleasure,
Of meeting you all again,
But I want to say a great big ‘Thank You!’
To Joey Belladonna and his Crew.
(And to the grumpy git,
Who ran out before the picture lit,
Thank you too!)

Because at the very end,
Running out to say goodbye,
I shook everyone’s hand,
Said my fare thee well,
And grinned my way all the way home,
With an awesome story to tell!

EF 03/12/07

We’ve only just begun…

Killer Application novel update…

…from the first set of feedback I received on my novel, I realised that I had some major rewriting to do.

In other words, I was going to have to buck up and blood myself as an ‘author’ by doing a serious rewrite of my novel, pretty much from start to finish.

I think it was more difficult to accept that what I had been doing for the past few weeks up until this ‘revelation’ was mere dabbling, rather than proper rewriting.

Yet when the pieces that needed some attention were pointed out to me and the repercussions in how much work was still required before this piece of writing could be taken to the next level, i.e. professional ‘2nd draft’ editing, I had to swallow some semi-sweet pills regarding my writing style, including the banks of snow I had plowed right up across my own driveway (in some cases).

Basically, this was a wake-up call.  So I sat down on Saturday and started to put together a proper outline of what I thought the story was, where it was going, who the main characters were and all that jazz.

You’d think, after writing more than 500 pages or nearly 170,000 words, I would know all of this off the top of my head…and you’d be right – I did.  What I did not realise is how much ‘tweaking’ (read ‘major overhaul’) I had to do to bring the story back on track.

I think the major issue is that I knew in my head all of the missing gaps – I had been living with this story for so long that I presumed anyone reading it would know it as well as I.  Then in midst of my outline writing and drafting of character and plot and subplot details, I realised in a ‘Eureka’ moment, that I did not have to sacrifice what I was writing.

In fact, I had to admit to myself that I had ‘chickened out’ of the original underlying subplot I had thought of writing in the original storyline.  I had ‘chickened out’ by justifying that it was too much to put into one story – it would meander and get lost in details.  It would take too long to play out.  It would not be interesting enough to everyone.

In rejigging my original idea to fit what I thought would be a broader audience I had sufficiently transferred what (I think) is a good idea into something that had to be padded to make sense (and even then was trying ‘too hard’ at times, and ‘not hard enough’ at other times).

In other words, in 500 pages I had written the skeleton of the story with some padding that I thought made sense.  Going back to it now, I have to strip almost all of the fat (tasty bits) away and get to the gristle, muscle, tendon, ligaments, bone…the gruesome guts of the story and build out from there.

Maybe this is the experience that all writers have, I would not know.  In the blogs, books and articles I have read writers talk about how they ‘got there’ (made it into a deal with an agent or publisher) or how they ‘got their idea’ (the basis for their story) or ‘the journey’ (the whole or any part of the start-to-end journey of their publishing life).

All of these are extremely useful, but I guess trying to explain the ‘Doh!’ realisation of what ‘rewriting’ truly means (the ‘blooding’ of an author) is like trying to explain what it is like being a parent…to someone who does not have any kids.

This is not something that is easy to explain, aside from picturing the growth and maturity of a writer into an author.

  • Imagine that writing the full novel is an author’s childhood, full of wide-open vistas and bright-eyed wonderment.
  • Then editing the novel is puberty, where I know what I am doing, I know I what I want out of the story.  I just need to massage it out.  The form is there, I just need to kneed the shape of the loaf, chip the remainder of the sculpture, colour in the rest of the painting, before I get to the final finished 2nd draft product.
  • Finally the birth of adulthood comes when I realise that the novel is not actually ready for ‘editing’.  The novel is awaiting the ‘breath of real life’, the rewrite.

Now, this probably all seems a bit coy or simplistic, and of course it is.  Trying to describe the growth of the writer to author-hood (child to adult-hood) is like trying to explain the psychological alteration of going from individual to parent.  There is no way to describe it aside from ‘it is’.

I also have to admit that I am in the middle of the transformation.  I believe I am on the cusp of the writer-to-author teenage-hood, where I have realised there is more to rewriting than editing, that first I must rewrite my story to make it stronger, to make it worth reading, to make it the best it could possibly be.

Yet even being here is not disheartening in the slightest.  I am excited by the journey as much as by the end result.  I am as intrigued and interested by my own development as an author as by the novel I am writing (or any of the poetry or prose that I may work on now or in the near future).

I say, “Bring it on!”

So what if it takes another six months to get to first draft status (again).

So what if it takes a further six months to get to second draft status (for the first time).

What matters is the journey, the experience, the growth and the end result.  It all matters.

Now I just have to stay focused.

I know in my heart of hearts that it will definitely be worth the trip.

What a great experience to have, to grow up a second time doing what I love to do.

In the meantime I will continue to self-publish more free ebooks of poetry, short stories, essays, quotes, rants and other bits en route – watch this space!

“In there always pitchin’ and sometime’s bitchin'” as my Gamp used to say.

Life’s gonna throw curveballs – you have two choices, swing or get out of the way.

What happens after you decide how to react is down to dumb luck.

Taking the outcome personally is not only grossly egocentric, it is also fundamentally shortsighted.

How do we know what is coming around the corner?

We only know what we want or what we think is the best for us and others. We never really know what’s right or wrong until it’s already been and gone.

I just hope my hindsight plays out true, that this is the right journey and not too presumptive on my part, seeing as I am only just beginning (cue “We’ve only just begun“).

Let’s see what the next step in this journey brings.

Hopefully the end result is not total pants! 🙂

Until next time – a river dare-chi,

Em (mE)