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Sunday, December 21, 2014

Writing



I passed the 58,000 word mark in Hard Case Book V: Blood and Fear tonight, the new John Harding series novel. Interacting with characters created out of my head with humor, violence, and situations where I can change reality is an endeavor of high entertainment. They laugh, love, chatter, kill, and live at my command. In return, they fog over the sharper edges of real life, helping me hold onto sanity at horrific times. Last blog I wrote about reviews, and the temptation to write according to what we think readers want, taking their every criticism to heart. Therein lies disaster. If any author wishes to find out what writer’s block is, simply sit at your keyboard, and try to write even a short story according to the myriad writing bibles, and reader preferences, heralded as the true way to success on any given day – they change continually, so pick any day. I guarantee that author will find the meaning of writer’s block.
That same writer could sit down at the keyboard the next day, close the writing bibles, turn off the head chatter wondering whether your creation will impress Stephen King, and stop reading what publishing gurus are saying is the next big thing. Then start writing what I’ve always encouraged, a story that makes your blood pound, your fists clench, your eyes tear up, or sends you into laughing fits. When you look away from the screen you’ll have a couple thousand words wondering where the hell they came from, and you’ll realize you had a good time while they were magically shooting from your head to your screen.
The competition in the market now is so intense, no one knows what will succeed or not succeed. I believe it is better to have a day-job, and enjoy the hell out of creating stories, rather than embrace what I call ‘The Tortured Writer’s Syndrome’. We may have varying levels of success, or not have success at all, but that’s not what writing means – not to me anyway.  :)

Christmas draws near. Every Christmas I wrote my now deceased angel Joyce a long poem, with rhyming highlights of the year past, with usually much humor, and a little poignancy. I celebrate/endure Christmas for the first time in over forty years without her. I’ll end tonight with a part of the poem I did for her last Christmas. Rest in peace, baby.
In this sweet season of memories past,
With silver bells, and gifts that don’t last,
I look to you for my own Christmas role,
Where like me, years have taken their toll.
We echo each other’s unspoken thoughts,
So many years together, connecting the dots.
We lasted through sickness and life’s grief,
To forge a bond making our setbacks brief.
With the Lord’s blessing we’ll soldier ahead,
Enduring it all until taking to our final bed.
Laughing at the speed our short years go by,
Caught within the aging time warp we sigh,
Watching our hours spinning away to dust,
Hand in hand we face the final wind’s gust.
Love is too weak a word describing our end.
Through all the years you’ve been my friend.

11 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

Write what moves you. Absolutely. Lovely poem, my friend.

Bernard Lee DeLeo said...

I would hate to write to someone else's specifications. :) Thank you, my friend. I pray you have a wonderful holiday with Lana and family.

RJ Parker said...

Beautiful poem brother. My heart aches for you and your family. So many hurdles to get through.

You are by far the most prolific action pulp writer I've known. I can't get enough of your books as you know.

God bless my friend and despite Joyce not here physically, she'll be with you during Christmas as she is every day.

Merry Christmas. . RJ

Shirley Bell said...

Just beautiful Bernie, Your angel surely hears your poem and is always near and dear. Sending you and your family Christmas Blessings. Keeping you all in my prayers. God Bless

Bernard Lee DeLeo said...

Yeah, RJ, she'll be with me tonight and on the train to see my daughter and grandson for Christmas Eve tomorrow. She haunts my every thought, Merry Christmas, brother.

Thank you, Shirley. I'm very happy you met her at the reunion. She was simply the best... even though she left me outside the Hotdog Shoppe waiting for a ride... I would have waited forever, but Joyce and her sister finally decided to pick me up. :) I pray you have a wonderful Christmas.

raine said...

That's lovely, Bernard.
Wishing you a peaceful holiday.

Bernard Lee DeLeo said...

Thanks, Raine. I hope you have a very Merry Christmas, my friend.

Charlene Borsic said...

Hi Bernard, I enjoyed you special poem today, thinking how wonderful it is that your love is in your heart forever.. Have a blessed day with your family. God bless you.. Charlene

Bernard Lee DeLeo said...

Merry Christmas, Charlene. Thank you. I pray your coming year will be a good one, my friend.

Vesper said...

Then start writing what I’ve always encouraged, a story that makes your blood pound, your fists clench, your eyes tear up, or sends you into laughing fits.

Yes, Bernard, that's true advice and I know that you do just that.

You wrote a beautiful poem to your wife. My heart breaks for you and I know that there are no words that could soothe your pain. Just try to see her in your children and your grandchildren; try to find some solace in knowing that from somewhere she is watching over you. The loss and the pain are tremendous, but our hearts are so much richer for having had these beloved lost ones in our lives.

Christmas blessings and my very best wishes to you and your loved ones, my friend.

Bernard Lee DeLeo said...

Yes Cora... over forty years of blessings, where Joyce never faltered at my side. Thank you. Merry Christmas and a healthy, happy New Year, I pray for all of your family.