When I knew I had potential (sorta)

I wish I really knew what the hell I was doing when I write. I think I'm mostly just winging it.   I know that sounds crazy, crazier to actually say it, but it's true.  I haven't had a writing class since high school.  And that was a class assignment, the teach telling us to write something about why staying out of trouble is a good thing.  I pretty much said to stay out of jail. (Duh!) C-minus, but I passed!  Something about no footnotes, and my atrocious spelling.  (This was way before Microsoft Word)

      Lucky for me, I've always had a book in my hand since college, so when I write something I get a feeling for it; ‘Does it sound 'right?"  Is it 'Clear?"  Does it 'Flow,' no hiccups?

     The challenge for me: creating characters from people I see every day, with enough bombs going off every few pages so the reader is saying, 'OMG!  You're kidding.'

     When did I know I had an aptitude?  When I asked my son, in the seventh grade,   "Hi, John.  How's school?"
     "It's OK.”
     "Let's see what you have to do."
      "Well...I got this paper I have to do about why education is a good thing.  It's kind of a contest for the entire school."
     "When's it due?"
     "Well...ah...tomorrow?"
     "WHAT?"  (Kid needed help, I could tell.)  "Well, we better get busy."
      Week later.  "Hey, John. How'd you make out on that paper you wrote?"
      "Dad, you're not going to believe... (a weak giggle)"  He whispered, "I won for the seventh grade."
     "You won!  You're kidding.  That's great."
      "Not really.  Now they want me do it in front of the Open House."
      "Upon stage. Like a speech?  Terrific!  You’ll do good.  When it going to be?"
      "Well...ah...tomorrow night."
      "John?  When were you going to tell us?"
      "I don't know."  His face was red.  (The apple didn't fall far...)

      I didn't write it for him, we simply sat at the table and discussed the possibilities.  We knew he could probably copy something from a back issue of Reader's Digest.  But I wanted him to do something original.  Not like today; a simple Google search, copy and paste, "Look I'm a writer!"

      Think outside the box.  We came up with two young boys walking home together, "Did you do that homework on the solar system?"
     The other, "Nah, I don't need that.   I ain't going to never need stuff like that.  I'm getting a job real soon."
     "You're not going to graduate?"
      "They need a dock guy down at Johnson's Hardware."
     "But..."
     and it goes on, how his competition for a job like that, without a high school diploma, would be enormous.  700 words later, written like a one act play, the boy decides he might need a diploma, and does the homework.

     Well, was his teacher pissed at me. Amazed at what John had written, all so suddenly!  Too suddenly for her, I guess.

     I got, in a nice way, the second degree.  "Your son really did a good job on...his...paper."  She didn't have to use 'air quotes,'  I heard it in her voice.

     "Well, all I can say is he showed me the assignment, and well we sat down and discussed it together, and he came up with it."
      I knew she didn't believe me.  "He has potential as a writer.  Maybe we'll get him into some other contests.  Almost like...night and day," as she wandered off.

      Okay, maybe I changed a few things in it...maybe...spelling, bad grammar, but that's it.
     That was the first  time I was ever praised for something I had a hand in writing.  I remember it today!

Maxwell who? Never heard of him.

     I'm Maxwell LaSalle: (Please insert pretentious crap about myself here.) Woops. Maxwell LaSalle: Seeking éclat, I drink coffee in the morning in a small coffee shop in Downtown L.A. and watch the passives aggressively pass me by. But, I'd surely give it all up to become a young handsome billionaire, a longtime dream of mine.  Had I begun writing fiction in my teens, I'd be gushing right here about my three Pulitzers, two National Book Awards, and all my Edgars. But alas.


      I did win a blue ribbon when I was six at the Venice Beach July Games, 10 and under backstroke.  But they told me some other kid said he'd won and had run off with the ribbon. My dad just rubbed my head.


      I read a lot, (not all that active on Facebook, or Twitter, so I have plenty of time). Some of the books I like, and have read a second time;  Guys and Dolls, by Damon Runyon. (Genius who created a whole city for his unforgettable characters stuck in the depression), Fast One by Paul Cain. (Hard nose noir.) Cain only reporting the action, not the thoughts of his characters.  Richard Stark's Spencer.  There are like 20 books withl him the main character.    (Again, all action, about a big time thief whose only focus is get the money and run, regardless! and he usually does.  Certainly the dark hero.)

     Music:  I worked my way through college working as a weekend Disc Jockey at a Big Band radio station, so anything by Benny Goodman, Chic Webb, Miller, Shaw, Berigan, Woody Herman, T and J Dorsey, the list goes on. I even like the crazy Spike Jones (the Spike Jones of the 1950s).  Stan Kenton not so much. Mellow sax, yes, cheeks exploding trumpet screams, (Dizzy Gillespi) no.


     Movies:  Man with the X-Ray Eyes (Ray Milland) TV-Breaking Bad (always something disastrous happening). Plus Better Call Saul. Treasure of Sierra Madre (H. Bogart) The Bourne (Whichevers), action movies that are total chase scenes. Not a fan of subtle. Jitterbug rather than the Viginia reel.


     Finally a plug for my book, (you knew this was coming), 'Flower Street Melodramas; Blades, Blonds, and Lotsa Bravado,' now out on Amazon.  It's 9 short stories, and 3 blog post from my sports blog, StiffLeftJab.com (I wrote that under the pen name: Brentwood Belair.)
   
     At this point l want me thank all of you who have read this far.  Take a breath.  Thanks.
     
     Now, since this is my first blog, I've come up with a Blog Mission Statement.  (Sounds a tad corporate, but, trust me, it'll be the last.  I spent way too many years in the corporate cubicle to go back, temps with clip boards standing over me, "Now how many calls did you make this morning, sir?"  I ain't going back!)   Anyway, here's what I want to do with this Blog:  I'm right now writing a novel entitled, Muscles in Red Wine.   It's a  story about a cage fighter who meets up with (you guessed it) Miss Sophistication, (Red hair, long legs, plays the piano), and together they conquer their personal challenges; he's way too physically aggressive, she's has way to foul a mouth, and in the end (I hope, since I haven't written that far yet,) they clean up their personal baggage, while they fight off the bad guys.

     Every couple of days I'll go through my thought process as I write the novel.  And every week or so I'll give you what I've written.  If you continue along with me you'll have read the entire book.  I hope this will entice you to continue reading my blog.  It's not for just writers, but for anyone interested in how the process works. (trail and error so far, but determination is the key.  My huge ego tells me you'll be checking in every so often.


     Sooo, until next time, (as I stir and sip my Jim Beam and Ginger Ale),  thank you for your support.