Self-Publish Update

Well, I decided before anyone bought my two books I had up on Amazon and Kindle that I’d go a different route all together. I’m diligently going to send out my book to agents and become traditionally published.

Three reasons:
1) I want the book to be seen, read, and enjoyed.

2) It, on the other end of the spectrum, wasn’t being seen. By anyone.

3) I know this can happen. I know if I’m diligent then, God willing, I will be published.

So, that’s it. That’s my main reasons and master plan. Work hard at getting a publishing agent and then publish. Probably not a fool proof method but better than my other plan, I think.

At any rate, we’ll see what happens. Until next post, take care.

#coolprompts – Zoso and Three More

I do like a good challenge. Once again, Ray hit one out of the park. I liked this challenge. It was interesting and made me flex my creative muscle somewhat.

Rules: 
Use the words ‘finite-infinite’ or sentence ‘Some think that the grains of sand cannot be counted’ in your text.

To participate: post a story, poem or flash on your blog, tag the post – #coolprompts, pingback to Ray’s post (or any last post on RayNotBradbury’s Blog), if you want me to come over, read and comment. Any genre/style is welcome! No boundaries at all! It’s OKAY to bend the rules. Have fun!

So, without further dialogue, ado, or anything else, here’s my two cents titled Zoso and Three More:

Some think that the grains of sand cannot be counted. I say to those people they haven’t been on the beach under the influence of mescaline. I’d like to think it was my conversation with God. So much went through my mind that the infinite turned finite. It was like wisdom itself struck the top of my noggin. And, I tell you, if lightning had shot out of my eyeballs, that fact wouldn’t have surprised me.

I’d been in a bad car wreck the month previously. So, a vacation was in order. Well, when I hit the beach in the Bahamas and a tour guide, of all people, offered to get me drugs, I figured what the hell! You only live once and this roller coaster ain’t off the tracks yet, despite the previous car crash.

It was like my conversation with God I was having included the algorithmic information to determining just how many grains of sand were on this beach. Unfortunately, someone began playing a favorite Led Zeppelin song in the distance and my concentration went to shit and Kashmir. That tune is the bomb, and more so under the effects of mescaline. I couldn’t have calculated for crap when Page’s thunderous guitar and Plant’s vocal range began to ring out.

I looked to the sky and saw four dramatic symbols in the clouds. They mimicked the four symbols off the untitled Led Zeppelin album – three interlocking rings, the ring with a feather inside, the word Zoso in a funky-shaped script, and the single circle with a triquetra over it. I was so flabbergasted. I came to the conclusion, which no one has yet to disprove, that my theory of the music at the center of the universe is in fact every song that Led Zeppelin ever recorded.

I don’t know still how many grains of sand are on that beach. When I came down from my mescaline high, and subsequently bailed myself out of jail for streaking on the same beach which I don’t recall having done, I realized maybe infinite ideas are that for a reason. Some mysteries are mysteries innately, and debunking or solving said mystery would no longer make them mystical. The solving would take away the very thing that grabs us about that mystery. Maybe one day I’ll know this algorithmic function that went into solving the riddle of “how many grains of sand”, but something tells me I might be dead when that comes about.

So, that’s the tale – a drug-riddled romp on the beach. Until next time . . .

#coolprompts – The Gift

I do love a good literary challenge. And of course, my good buddy Ray doesn’t ever disappoint.

Rules:
Post photo-association with words ‘the unexpected gift’. It can be absolutely anything…on the road, at home, on the trip.
If you are going to write the text, use the words in your story.

To participate: tag your post – #coolprompts, or pingback to Ray’s post (or any last post on RayNotBradbury’s Blog), if you want me to come over, read and comment. Any genre/style is welcome! No boundaries at all! It’s OKAY to bend the rules. Have fun!

I used a painting I did a long time ago, around 2003 I think, as the gift. It’s of a cafe a friend used to own in real life. For about five months, she gave owning a cafe a go. I’d like to say the cafe made it, but . . . It’s just one of those things, I suppose.

Coffeehouse
“Coffeehouse” by Robert Gregory

The story follows titled Coffeehouse Gift:

“Let it rain,” Nick said.

The rain drenched the beach and people left from the sand. Nick brought in the unexpected gift for his hostess.

“I picked this up town while I was at a gift shop,” Nick said.

“Let’s see,” Erica said. She unwrapped the gift and opened the box. The painting stirred a feeling of oddity in Erica. Its bright colors. Its subject matter. The painting made her feel claustrophobic. The work held a stifling effect about it.

“I like it, but I can’t breathe looking at this. It’s a nice work but something about it is odd,” Erica admitted.

The canvas lit up illuminated by bright orange, lustrous peach, and brilliant blue and green. The coffeehouse in the painting burst vibrant colors but boasted a harmony that left one wondering if the painter had painted the work on one leg.

The work was unique. But Nick found himself leaning while looking. He watched the man drink coffee at the bar. He stood before the bartender and looked at her asking the man a question. The two in the back ground relaxed with their beverages. But still something was amiss.

Nick said, “Maybe the artist was doing a rain dance while he painted.”

That’s the very short, somewhat event-less story. Hope you enjoyed it. Until next time . . .